LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR. 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY; 

OR, 

LIFE  IN  AN   ODD  CORNER 


Large   12mo,    4OO  pages,  and  nearly  4OO  original  engravings 

by  FROST,  SHEPPARD,  etc.      Cloth.    Extra, 

black  enamel,  ornate,  price  $2.5O. 


A  marked  success  in  this  country,  and  its  sales  in  Europe  count 
by  tens  of  thousands  of  copies. 

"  Remarkable  for  its  delicate  shades  of  humor,  fine  touches  of 
feeling,  close  and  minute  observations  and  good  common  sense." — 
"The  book  is  a  gem,  and  its  author  a  wit  of  the  first  water."-— 
"  Everywhere  original,  fresh,  ingenious,  delightful." — "  The  engrav 
ings  are  the  very  essence  of  comic  art." 


ELBOW-ROOM 


A  NOVEL  WITHOUT  A  PLOT 

BY 

MAX     ADELER 

AUTHOR  OF  "Our  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY,"  ETC.,  ETC. 


ILLUSTRATED   BY  ARTHUR   B.  FROST 


PHILADELPHIA 
J.     M.     STODDART    &    CO. 

CHICAGO  AND  CINCINNATI: 
A.    G.    NETTLETON     &     CO 

SAN  FRANCISCO,  CAL. :  A.  ROMAN  &  CO. 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1876,  by 

CHARLES   HEBER   CLARK, 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


WESTCOTT   &   THOMSON, 

Stercotypers  and  EUctrotypers,  Philada. 


HENRY  B.  ASHMEAD, 
Printer.  Phtlada, 


PREFACE. 


TF  every  book  that  contains  nothing  but  nonsense 
-*•  confessed  that  fact  in  its  preface,  the  world 
would  have  been  saved  a  vast  amount  of  dreary 
reading.  Most  of  such  volumes,  however,  are  be 
lieved  by  their  authors  to  be  full  of  wisdom  of  the 
solidest  kind;  and  confession,  therefore,  being  im 
possible,  the  reader  may  learn  the  truth  only 
through  much  tribulation.  The  writer  of  this 
book  freely  admits,  at  the  outset,  that  it  contains 
only  the  lightest  humor,  and  that  its  single  pur 
pose  is  to  afford  amusement.  At  the  same  time, 
he  claims  for  it  that  it  is  wiser  and  far  more  use 
ful  than  many  more  solemn  books  that  have  been 
published,  with  the  intent  to  regenerate  mankind, 
by  authors  who  would  regard  such  a  volume  as 
this  with  feelings  of  scorn. 

This  is  simply  an  effort  to  tell  stories  of  a  hu 
morous  character;  and  although  the  attempt  may 
not  be  so  successful  as  it  has  been  in  the  hands  of 
others,  from  Boccaccio  downward,  it  has  at  least  one 


0  PREFACE. 

quality  that  some  greater  achievements  do  not  pos 
sess  :  it  is  absolutely  pure  in  thought,  word  and 
suggestion.  If  it  is"  filled  with  nonsense,  that  non 
sense  at  any  rate  is  innocent.  It  is  modest,  cleanly 
and  without  malice  or  irreverence.  A  worthier  and 
nobler  work  might  have  been  written  ;  a  purer  work 
could  not  have  been. 

What  its  other  merits  are  he  who  reads  it  will 
discern.  To  apologize  for  it  in  any  manner  would 
be  to  admit  that  it  has  grave  deficiencies,  and  such 
an  admission  the  author  would  not  make  even  if 
his  conscience  impelled  him  to  do  so.  The  book 
is  offered  to  the  reader  with  the  conviction  that  if  the 
man  who  laughs  is  the  happiest  man,  it  may  contrib 
ute  something  to  the  sum  of  human  felicity. 

The  story  of  the  French  horn,  related  in  the 
twentieth  chapter,  will  recall  to  the  reader  of  the 
"  Sparrowgrass  Papers  "  an  incident  related  in  that 
most  charming  book  of  humor.  Perhaps  it  ought 
to  be  said  that  the  former  narrative  was  at  least  sug 
gested  by  the  latter. 

The  artist  who  has  illustrated  the  book,  Mr. 
Arthur  B.  Frost,  deserves  to  have  it  said  of  him 
that  he  has  done  his  work  skilfully,  tastefully  and 
with  nice  appreciation  of  the  humor  of  the  various 
situations. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

PACK 

THE  ADVANTAGES  OF  ELBOW-ROOM 13 


CHAPTER  II. 
THE  TERRIBLE  MISHAP  TO  MR.  FOGG'S  BABY 21 

CHAPTER  III. 
INTERNAL  NAVIGATION. — AN  UNFORTUNATE  INVENTOR 33 

CHAPTER  IV. 
THE  FACTS  IN  REFERENCE  TO  MR.  BUTTERWICK'S  HORSE...    45 

CHAPTER  V. 
SOME  EDUCATIONAL  FACTS 62 

CHAPTER  VI. 
THE  EDITOR  OF  "THE  PATRIOT" 78 

CHAPTER  VII. 

How  MR.  BUTTERWICK  PURSUED  HORTICULTURE 94 

7 


»  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

PAGE 

THE  MEETING,  AND  ITS  MISSIONARY  WORK 105 

CHAPTER  IX. 
JUDGE  TWIDDLER'S  Cow 115 

CHAPTER  X. 
OUR  CIVIL  SERVICE 125 

CHAPTER  XI. 
FUNEREAL  AND  CONJUGAL 138 

CHAPTER  XII. 
A  NEW  MRS.  TOODLES. — POTTS'  ADVENTURES 152 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
THE  RACES,  AND  SOME  OTHER  THINGS 167 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
RESPECTING  CERTAIN  SAVAGES 180 

CHAPTER  XV. 
LOVE,  SUFFERING  AND  SUICIDE 192 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
MR.  FOGG  AS  SPORTSMAN  AND  SPOUSE 205 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
How  WE  CONDUCT  A  POLITICAL  CAMPAIGN 217 


CONTENTS.  9 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

PAGE 

THE  MATUTINAL  ROOSTER 225 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
AN  UNRULY  METER. — SCENES  IN  A  SANCTUM 236 

CHAPTER  XX. 
HIGH  ART 248 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

CERTAIN  DENTAL  EXPERIENCES. — AN  UNFORTUNATE  OFFICIAL.  258 

CHAPTER  XXII. 
JUSTICE,  AND  A  LITTLE  INJUSTICE 271 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 
THE  TRAMP  WITH  GENIUS  AND  WITHOUT  IT 279 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 
THE  DOG  OF  MR.  BUTTERWICK'S,  AND  OTHER  DOGS 292 

CHAPTER  XXV. 
A  PERSECUTED  JOURNALIST 303 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 
THE  ACHIEVEMENTS  OF  DR.  PERKINS 321 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 
GENERAL  TRUMPS  OF  THE  MILITIA 328 


IO  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

PAGE 

THE  MISDIRECTED  ENERGIES  OF  MR.  BRADLEY 340 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 
THE  TRIALS  OF  MR.  KEYSER,  GRANGER 351 

CHAPTER  XXX. 
MR.  BANGER'S  AUNT 364 

CHAPTER  XXXI. 
VARIOUS  THINGS 373 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PAGB 

ELBOW-ROOM Frontispiece. 

MR.  FOGG  AS  A  MESMERIST 22 

A  NOVEL  MOUSETRAP 31 

A  PERPLEXED  MULE 34 

THE  SECRETARY  is  ALARMED 41 

MR.  BUTTERWICK'S  HORSE  LIES  DOWN 59 

THE  BATTLE  OF  CANNAE.     (Full  page.) 67 

MR.  BARNES  PROPOSES 76 

THE  CARBOLIC  DOOR-MAT 86 

THE  GARDENER  RETREATS 96 

TREADING  WATER 103 

THE  HEATHEN  CLOTHE  THEMSELVES 113 

THE  JUDGE'S  Cow 121 

A  TOMBSTONE  CONTRACT 144 

MR.  POTTS'  MOUSE 157 

SHOOTING  A  BURGLAR 163 

A  FLAT-IRON  WEDDING 166 

AN  EXCITED  OLD  LADY 171 

THE  CAT  SUCCUMBS 176 

How  THE  PIG  WAS  KILLED 178 

MR.  SPOONER  is  ALARMED 181 

THE  LITTLE  BABY-BEAR 188 

THE  GOLDFISH  TRICK.     (Full  page.) 197 

11 


12  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

PACK 

A  CURTAILMENT 203 

AN  INDIGNANT  GUNNER 206 

CONFESSING  THEIR  FAULTS 208 

FORCED  TO  DO  DUTY 223 

THE  EARLY  COCK 228 

THE  AFFAIR  AT  THE  POULTRY-SHOW 232 

THE  SHERIFF  is  MAD 239 

MR.  SMITH'S  GRIEF 241 

A  SCARED  FAMILY 253 

DR.  SLUGG'S  INVENTION 259 

JOE  MIDDLES 269 

A  COURT  SCENE 274 

A  DOG  FOR  SALE 289 

SMITH'S  BOY  RETREATS 293 

BANG!!!     (Full  page.) 311 

THE  WANDERING  JEW 315 

SIMPSON'S  CASE 322 

THE  GENERAL  IN  A  RAGE 330 

"TAKE  HER,  YOUNG  MAN!" 337 

BRADLEY'S  CRADLE 346 

THE  NEW  MOTOR 349 

A  QUEER  PLANT 357 

Too  MUCH  OF  A  BORE.     (Full  page.) 361 

BALLAST 369 

MAJOR  SLOTT'S  TIGER 374 

FACING  THE  TIGER 375 


ELBOW-ROOM. 


CHAPTER   I. 

PROLOGUE. 
THE  AD  VANTA  GES  OF  EL B  O IV- R  0  OM. 

|HE  professors  of  sociology,  in  exploring 
the  mysteries  of  the  science  of  human 
living,  have  not  agreed  that  elbow-room 
is  one  of  the  great  needs  of  modern  civ 
ilized  society,  but  this  may  be  because  they  have 
not  yet  reached  the  bottom  of  things  and  discov 
ered  the  truth.  In  crowded  communities  men  have 
chances  of  development  in  certain  directions,  but  in 
others  their  growth  is  surely  checked.  A  man  who 
lives  in  a  large  city  is  apt  to  experience  a  sharpening 
of  his  wits,  for  attrition  of  minds  as  well  as  of 
pebbles  produces  polish  and  brilliancy ;  but  perhaps 
this  very  process  prevents  the  free  unfolding  of 
parts  of  his  character.  If  his  individuality  is  not 
partially  lost  amid  the  crowd,  it  is  likely  that,  first, 
his  imitative  faculty  will  induce  him  to  shape  him 
self  in  accordance  with  another  than  his  own  pattern, 

13 


14  ELBOW-ROOM. 

and  that,  second,  the  dread  of  the  conspicuousness 
which  is  the  certain  result  of  eccentricity  will  per 
suade  him  to  avoid  any  tendency  he  may  have  to 
become  strongly  unlike  his  neighbors. 

The  house  that  he  lives  in  is  tightly  squeezed  in  a 
row  of  dwellings  builded  upon  a  precisely  similar 
plan,  so  that  the  influence  brought  to  bear  upon  him 
by  the  home  resembles  to  some  extent  that  which 
operates  upon  his  fellows.  There  is  a  pressure  upon 
both  sides  of  him  in  the  house  ;  and  when  he  plunges 
into  business,  there  is  a  far  greater  pressure  there,  in 
the  shape  of  sharp  competition,  which  brings  him 
into  constant  collision  with  other  men,  and  mayhap 
drives  him  or  compels  him  to  drive  his  weaker  rival 
to  the  wall. 

The  city-man  is  likely  to  cover  himself  with  a 
mantle  of  reserve  and  dissimulation.  If  he  has  a 
longing  to  wander  in  untrodden  and  devious  paths,  he 
is  disposed  resolutely  to  suppress  his  desire  and  to 
go  in  the  beaten  track.  If  Smith,  in  a  savage  state, 
would  certainly  conduct  himself  in  a  wholly  original 
manner,  in  a  social  condition  he  yields  to  an  inevi 
table  apprehension  that  Jones  will  think  queer  of  his 
behavior,  and  he  shapes  his  actions  in  accordance 
with  the  plan  that  Jones,  with  strong  impulses  to 
unusual  and  individual  conduct,  has  adopted  because 
he  is  afraid  he  will  be  thought  singular  by  Smith. 
And  in  the  mean  time,  Robinson,  burning  with  a  de 
sire  to  go  wantonly  in  a  direction  wholly  diverse 
from  that  of  his  associates,  realizes  that  to  set  at 


PROLOGUE.  15 

defiance  the  theories  of  which  Smith  and  Jones  are 
apparently  the  earnest  advocates  would  be  to  expose 
himself  to  harsh  criticism,  sacrifices  himself  to  his 
terror  of  their  opinion  and  yields  to  the  force  of 
their  example. 

In  smaller  and  less  densely-populated  communities 
the  weight  of  public  opinion  is  not  largely  decreased, 
but  the  pressure  is  not  so  great.  There  is  more 
elbow-room.  A  man  who  knows  everybody  about 
him  gauges  with  a  reasonable  degree  of  accuracy  the 
characters  of  those  who  are  to  judge  him,  and  is  able 
to  form  a  pretty  fair  estimate  of  the  value  of  their 
opinions.  When  men  can  do  this,  they  are  apt  to  feel 
a  greater  degree  of  freedom  in  following  their  nat 
ural  impulses.  If  men  could  sound  the  depths  of  all 
knowledge  and  read  with  ease  the  secrets  of  the 
universe,  they  might  lose  much  of  their  reverence. 
When  they  know  the  exact  worth  of  the  judgment 
of  their  fellow-men,  they  begin  to  regard  it  with 
comparative  indifference.  And  so,  if  a  dweller  in  a 
small  village  desires  to  leave  the  beaten  track,  he  can 
summon  courage  to  do  so  with  greater  readiness  than 
the  man  of  the  town.  If  he  has  occasionally  that 
proneness  to  make  a  fool  of  himself  which  seizes 
every  man  now  and  then,  he  may  indulge  in  the  per 
ilous  luxury  without  great  carefulness  of  the  conse 
quences.  Smith's  ordinary  conduct  is  the  admiration 
of  Jones  as  a  regular  thing;  but  when  Smith  switches 
off  into  some  eccentricity  for  which  Jones  has  no 
inclination,  it  is  only  a  matter  of  course  that  Jones 


1 6  ELBOW-ROOM. 

should  indulge  in  his  own  little  oddities  without 
caring  whether  Smith  smiles  upon  him  or  not. 

It  is,  therefore,  in  such  communities  that  search 
can  most  profitably  be  made  for  raw  human  nature 
that  has  had  room  to  grow  upon  every  side  with 
little  check  or  hindrance.  The  man  who  chooses  to 
seek  may  find  original  characters,  queer  combinations 
of  events,  surprising  revelations  of  individual  and 
family  experiences  and  an  unlimited  fund  of  amuse 
ment,  especially  if  he  is  disposed,  perhaps  even  while 
he  submits  to  an  overpowering  conviction  that  all 
life  is  tragic,  to  summon  into  prominence  those 
humorous  phases  of  social  existence  which,  as  in 
the  best  of  artificial  tragedies,  are  permitted  to  ap 
pear  in  real  life  as  the  foil  of  that  which  is  truly 
sorrowful.  To  depict  events  that  are  simply  amus 
ing  may  not  be  the  highest  and  best  function  of  a 
writer ;  but  if  he  has  a  strong  impulse  to  undertake 
such  a  task  in  the  intervals  of  more  serious  work,  it 
may  be  that  he  performs  a  duty  which  is  more  ob 
vious  because  the  common  inclination  of  those  who 
tell  the  story  of  human  life  is  to  present  that  which 
is  sad  and  terrible,  and  to  lead  the  reader,  whose  soul 
has  bitterness  enough  of  its  own,  into  contemplation 
of  the  true  or  fictitious  anguish  of  others. 

At  any  rate,  an  attempt  to  show  men  and  their  ac 
tions  in  a  purely  humorous  aspect  is  justified  by  the 
facts  of  human  life ;  and  if  fiction  is,  for  the  most 
part,  tragedy,  there  is  reason  why  much  of  the  re 
mainder  should  be  devoted  to  fun.  To  laugh  is  to 


PROLOGUE.  17 

perform  as  divine  a  function  as  to  weep.  Man,  who 
was  made  only  a  little  lower  than  the  angels,  is  the 
only  animal  to  whom  laughter  is  permitted.  He  is  the 
sole  earthly  heir  of  immortality,  and  he  laughs. 
More  than  this,  the  process  is  healthful  to  both  mind 
and  body,  for  it  is  the  man  who  laughs  with  reason 
and  judgment  who  is  the  kindly,  pure,  cheerful  and 
happy  man. 

It  is  in  a  village  wherein  there  is  elbow-room  for 
the  physical  and  intellectual  man  that  the  characters 
in  this  book  may  be  supposed  to  be,  to  do  and  to  suffer. 
It  would  be  unfair  to  say  that  the  reader  can  visit 
the  spot  and  meet  face  to  face  all  these  people  who 
appear  in  the  incidents  herein  recorded,  and  it  would 
be  equally  improper  to  assert  that  there  is  naught 
written  of  them  but  veritable  history.  But  it  might 
perhaps  be  urged  that  the  individuals  exist  in  less 
decided  and  grotesque  forms,  and  that  the  words 
and  deeds  attributed  to  them  are  less  than  wholly 
improbable.  And  if  any  one  shall  consider  it  worth 
while  to  inquire  further  concerning  the  matter,  let 
him  discover  where  may  be  found  a  community 
which  exists  in  such  a  locality  as  this  that  I  will  now 
describe. 

A  hamlet  set  upon  a  hillside.  The  top  a  breezy 
elevation  crowned  with  foliage  and  commanding  a 
view  of  matchless  beauty.  To  the  west,  beneath,  a 
sea  of  verdure  rolling  away  in  mighty  billows,  which 
here  bear  upon  their  crests  a  tiny  wood,  a  diminutive 
dwelling,  a  flock  of  sheep  or  a  drove  of  cattle,  and 

2 


1 8  ELBOW-ROOM. 

there  sweep  apparently  almost  over  a  shadowy  town 
which  nestles  between  two  of  the  emerald  waves. 
Far,  far  beyond  the  steeples  which  rise  dimly  from 
the  distant  town  a  range  of  hills ;  beyond  it  still,  a 
faint  film  of  blue,  the  indistinct  and  misty  semblance 
of  towering  mountains. 

To  the  north  a  lovely  plain  that  rises  a  few  miles 
away  into  a  long  low  ridge  which  forms  the  sharp 
and  clear  horizon.  To  the  south  and  east  a  narrow 
valley  that  is  little  more  than  a  deep  ravine,  the  sides 
of  the  precipitous  hills  covered  with  forest  to  the 
brink  of  the  stream,  which  twists  and  turns  at  sharp 
angles  like  a  wounded  snake,  shining  as  burnished 
silver  when  one  catches  glimpses  of  it  through  the 
trees,  and  playing  an  important  part  in  a  landscape 
which  at  brief  distance  seems  as  wild  and  as  uncon 
scious  of  the  presence  of  man  as  if  it  were  a  part  of 
the  wilderness  of  Oregon  rather  than  the  adjunct  of 
a  busy  town  which  feels  continually  the  stir  and  im 
pulse  of  the  huge  city  only  a  dozen  miles  away. 

He  who  descends  from  the  top  of  the  village  hill 
will  pass  pretty  mansions  set  apart  from  their  neigh 
bors  in  leafy  and  flowery  solitudes  wherein  the  most 
unsocial  hermit  might  find  elbow-room  enough ;  he 
will  see  little  cottages  which  stand  nearer  to  the 
roadside,  as  if  they  shunned  isolation  and  wished 
to  share  in  the  life  that  often  fills  the  highway  in 
front  of  them.  Farther  down  the  houses  become 
more  companionable ;  they  cling  together  in  groups 
with  the  barest  possibility  of  retaining  their  indi- 


PROLOGUE.  19 

viduality,  until  at  last  the  thoroughfare  becomes  a 
street  wherein  small  shops  do  their  traffic  in  quite  a 
spirited  sort  of  a  way. 

Clear  down  at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  by  the  brink  of 
the  sweet  and  placid  river,  there  are  iron  mills  and 
factories  and  furnaces,  whose  chimneys  in  the  day 
time  pour  out  huge  columns  of  black  smoke,  and 
from  which  long  tongues  of  crimson  and  bluish  flame 
leap  forth  at  night  against  the  pitchy  darkness  of  the 
sky.  Here,  as  one  whirls  by  in  the  train  after  night 
fall,  he  may  catch  hurried  glimpses  of  swarthy  men, 
stripped  to  the  waist,  stirring  the  molten  iron  with 
their  long  levers  or  standing  amid  showers  of  sparks 
as  the  brilliant  metal  slips  to  and  fro  among  the 
rollers  that  mould  it  into  the  forms  of  commerce. 
If  upon  a  summer  evening  one  shall  rest  amid  the 
sweet  air  and  the  rustling  trees  upon  the  hill-top,  he 
may  hear  coming  up  from  this  dusky,  grimy  black 
ness  of  the  mills  and  the  railway  the  soughing  of 
the  blowers  of  the  blast-furnaces,  the  sharp  crack  of 
the  exploding  gases  in  the  white-hot  iroji,  the  shriek 
of  the  locomotive  whistle  and  all  night  long  the  roar 
and  rattle  of  the  passing  trains,  but  so  mellowed  by 
the  distance  that  the  harsh  sounds  seem  almost  mu 
sical — almost  as  pleasant  and  as  easily  endured  as 
the  voices  of  nature.  And  in  the  early  morning  a 
look  from  the  chamber  window  perhaps  may  show 
a  locomotive  whirling  down  the  valley  around  the 
sharp  curves  with  its  white  streamer  flung  out  upon 
the  green  hillside,  and  seeming  like  a  snowy  ribbon 


20  ELBOW-ROOM. 

cut  from  the  huge  mass  of  vapor  which  lies  low  upon 
the  surface  of  the  stream. 

The  name  of  this  town  among  the  hills  is — well, 
it  has  a  very  charming  Indian  name,  to  reveal  which 
might  be  to  point  with  too  much  distinctness  to  the 
worthy  people  who  in  some  sort  figure  in  the  follow 
ing  pages.  It  shall  be  called  Millburg  in  those  pages, 
and  its  inhabitants  shall  tell  their  stories  and  play 
their  parts  under  the  cover  of  that  unsuggestive 
title ;  so  that  the  curious  reader  of  little  faith  shall 
have  difficulty  if  he  resolves  to  discover  the  where 
abouts  of  the  village  and  to  inquire  respecting  the 
author's  claim  to  credibility  as  a  historian. 


CHAPTER   II. 

THE   TERRIBLE  MISHAP  TO  MR,  FOGG'S  BABY. 

|R.  and  Mrs.  Fogg  have  a  young  baby 
which  was  exceedingly  restless  and  trou 
blesome  at  night  while  it  was  cutting  its 
teeth.  Mr.  Fogg,  devoted  and  faithful 
father  that  he  is,  used  to  take  a  good  deal  more  than 
his  share  of  the  nursing  of  the  infant,  and  often,  when 
he  would  turn  out  of  bed  for  the  fifteenth  or  six 
teenth  time  and  with  fluttering  garments  and  unshod 
feet  carry  the  baby  to  and  fro,  soothing  it  with  a  lit 
tle  song,  he  would  think  how  true  it  is,  as  Napoleon 
once  said,  that  "the  only  real  courage  is  two-o'clock- 
in-the-morning  courage."  Mr.  Fogg  thought  he  had 
a  reasonable  amount  of  genuine  bravery,  and  justly, 
for  he  performed  the  functions  of  a  nurse  with  un 
surpassed  patience  and  good  humor. 

One -night,  however,  the  baby  was  unusually  wake 
ful  and  tempestuous,  and  after  struggling  with  it  for 
several  hours  he  called  Mrs.  Fogg  and  suggested 
that  it  would  be  well  to  give  the  child  some  pare 
goric  to  relieve  it  from  the  intense  pain  from  which 
it  was  evidently  suffering.  The  medicine  stood  upon 
the  bureau,  but  Mrs.  Fogg  had  to  go  down  stairs  to 

21 


22 


ELBOW-ROOM. 


the  dining-room  to  get  some  sugar ;  and  while  she 
was  fumbling  about  in  the  entry  in  the  dark  it  oc 
curred  to  Mr.  Fogg  that  he  had  heard  of  persons 


being  relieved  from  pain  by  applications  of  mesmer 
ism.  He  had  no  notion  that  he  could  exercise  such 
power  ;  but  while  musing  upon  the  subject  he  rubbed 
the  baby's  eyebrows  carelessly  with  his  fingers  and 
made  several  passes  with  his  hands  upon  its  fore- 


TERRIBLE  MISHAP  TO  MR.  FOGG'S  BABY.      2$ 

head.  As  Mrs.  Fogg  began  to  feel  her  way  up 
stairs,  he  was  surprised  and  pleased  to  find  that  the 
baby  had  become  quiet  and  had  dropped  off  into 
sweet  and  peaceful  slumber.  Mrs.  Fogg  put  the 
sugar  away  as  her  husband  placed  the  child  in  its 
crib  and  covered  it  up  carefully,  and  then  they  went 
to  bed. 

They  were  not  disturbed  again  that  night,  and  in 
the  morning  the  baby  was  still  fast  asleep.  Mrs. 
Fogg  said  she  guessed  the  poor  little  darling  must 
have  gotten  a  tooth  through,  which  made  it  feel 
easier.  Mr.  Fogg  said,  "  Maybe  it  has." 

But  he  had  a  faint  though  very  dark  suspicion 
that  something  was  wrong. 

After  breakfast  he  went  up  to  the  bed-room  to 
see  if  the  baby  was  awake.  It  still  remained  asleep  ; 
and  Mr.  Fogg,  when  he  had  leaned  over  and  listened 
to  its  breathing,  shook  it  roughly  three  or  four  times 
and  cleared  his  throat  in  a  somewhat  boisterous 
manner.  But  'it  did  not  wake,  and  Mr.  Fogg  went 
down  stairs  with  a  horrible  dread  upon  him,  and 
assuming  his  hat  prepared  to  go  to  the  office.  Mrs. 
Fogg  called  to  him, 

"  Don't  slam  the  front  door  and  wake  the  baby !" 

And  then  Mr.  Fogg  did  slam  it  with  extraor 
dinary  violence ;  after  which  he  walked  up  the  street 
with  gloom  in  his  soul  and  a  wretched  feeling  of  ap 
prehension  that  the  baby  would  never  waken. 

"What  on  earth  would  we  do  if  it  should  stay 
asleep  for  years  ?  S'pose'n  it  should  sleep  right 


24  ELBOW-ROOM. 

straight  ahead  for  half  a  century,  and  grow  to  be  an 
old  man  without  knowing  its  pa  and  ma,  and  with 
out  ever  learning  anything  or  seeing  anything !" 

The  thought  maddened  him.  He  remembered 
Rip  Van  Winkle ;  he  recalled  the  Seven  Sleepers 
of  Ephesus ;  he  thought  of  the  afflicted  woman 
whom  he  saw  once  at  a  menagerie  in  a  trance,  in 
which  she  had  been  for  twenty  years  continuously, 
excepting  when  she  awoke  for  a  few  moments  at 
long  intervals  to  ask  for  something  to  eat.  Perhaps 
when  he  and  Mrs.  Fogg  were  dead  the  baby  might 
be  rented  to  a  menagerie,  and  be  carried  around  the 
country  as  a  spectacle.  The  idea  haunted  him.  It 
made  him  miserable.  He  tried  for  two  or  three 
hours  to  fix  his  mind  upon  his  office-duties,  but  it 
was  impossible.  He  determined  to  go  back  to  the 
house  to  ascertain  if  the  baby  had  returned  to  con 
sciousness.  When  he  got  there,  Mrs.  Fogg  was 
beginning  to  feel  very  uneasy.  She  said, 

"  Isn't  it  strange,  Wilberforce,  that  the  baby  stays 
asleep  ?  He  is  not  awake  yet.  I  suppose  it  is  ner 
vous  exhaustion,  poor  darling!  but  I  am  a  little 
worried  about  it." 

Mr.  Fogg  felt  awfully.  He  went  up  and  jagged 
a  pin  into  the  baby's  leg  quietly,  so  that  his  wife 
could  not  see  him.  Still  it  lay  there  wrapped  in 
slumber;  and  after  repeating  the  experiment  he 
abandoned  himself  to  despair  and  went  back  to  his 
office,  uncertain  whether  to  fly  or  to  go  home  and 
confess  the  terrible  truth  to  Mrs.  Fogg. 


TERRIBLE  MISHAP  TO  MR.  FOGG'S  BABY.      2$ 

In  a  couple  of  hours  that  lovely  woman  came  in 
to  see  him.  She  was  scared  and  breathless : 

"  Mr.  Fogg,  the  baby  is  actually  asleep  yet,  and  I 
can't  rouse  him.  I've  shaken  him,  called  to  him  and 
done  everything,  and  he  don't  stir.  What  can  be  the 
matter  with  him  ?  I'm  afraid  something  dreadful 
has  happened  to  him." 

"  Maybe  he  is  sleeping  up  a  lot  ahead,  so's  to  stay 
awake  at  night  some  more,"  said  Mr.  Fogg,  with  a 
feeble  smile  at  his  attempt  at  a  joke. 

"  Wilberforce,  you  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  your 
self  to  trifle  with  such  a  matter !  S'pose  the  baby 
should  die  while  it  is  in  that  condition  ?  I  believe  it 
is  going  to  die,  and  I  want  you  to  go  straight  for  the 
doctor." 

Mr.  Fogg  started  at  once,  and  in  half  an  hour  he 
reached  the  house  in  company  with  Dr.  Gill.  The 
doctor  examined  the  child  carefully  and  said  that  it 
was  a  very  queer  case,  but  that,  in  his  opinion,  he 
must  be  under  the  influence  of  opium. 

"  Did  you  give  him  any  while  I  was  asleep  last 
night,  Mr.  Fogg  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Fogg,  suspiciously 
and  tearfully. 

"  Upon  my  word  and  honor  I  didn't,"  said  Mr. 
Fogg,  with  the  cold  perspiration  standing  upon  his 
forehead. 

41  Are  you  sure  you  didn't  give  him  anything?"  de 
manded  the  mother,  suddenly  remembering  that  the 
baby  became  quiet  while  she  was  down  stairs  upon 
the  preceding  night. 


26  ELBOW-ROOM. 

"  Maria,  do  you  think  I  would  deceive  you  ?" 
asked  Mr.  Fogg,  in  agony.  "  I'll  take  my  solemn 
oath  that  I  did  not  give  it  a  drop  of  medicine  of  any 
kind." 

"  It  is  very  remarkable — very,"  said  the  doctor. 
"  I  don't  know  that  I  ever  encountered  precisely 
such  a  case  before.  I  think  I  will  call  in  Dr.  Brown 
and  consult  with  him  about  it." 

Then  Mrs.  Fogg  began  to  sob  ;  and  while  she 
fondled  the  baby,  Mr.  Fogg,  feeling  like  a  murderer, 
followed  the  doctor  down  stairs.  When  they 
reached  the  hall,  Mr.  Fogg  drew  the  doctor  aside 
and  said,  in  a  confidential  whisper:  - 

"  Doctor,  I  am  going  to  tell  you  something,  but 
I  want  you  to  promise  solemnly  that  you  will  keep 
it  a  secret." 

"  Very  well ;  what  is  it  ?" 

"  You  won't  tell  Mrs.  Fogg  ?" 

"  No." 

"  Well,  doctor,  I — I — I — know  what  is  the  matter 
with  that  baby." 

"  You  do  !  you  know !  Well,  why  didn't  you — 
What  is  the  matter  with  it  ?" 

"  The  fact  is,  I  mesmerized  it  last  night." 

"  You  did !  Mesmerized  it !  And  why  don't  you 
rouse  it  up  again?" 

"  I  don't  know  how ;  that's  the  mischief  of  it.  I 
did  it  accidentally,  you  know.  I  was  sort  of  finger 
ing  around  the  child's  forehead,  and  all  of  a  sudden 
it  stopped  crying  and  dropped  off.  Can't  you  find 


TERRIBLE  MISHAP  TO  MR.  FOGG'S  BABY.      2  7 

me  a  professional  mesmerizer  to  come  and  undo  the 
baby  ?" 

"  I  don't  believe  I  can.  The  only  one  I  know  of 
lives  in  San  Francisco,  and  he  couldn't  get  here  in 
less  than  a  week  even  if  we  should  telegraph  for 
him." 

"  By  that  time,"  shrieked  Mr.  Fogg,  "  the  baby'll 
be  dead  and  Maria  will  be  insane !  What,  under 
Heaven,  are  we  going  to  do  about  it  ?" 

"  Let's  hunt  up  Brown  ;  maybe  he  knows." 

So  they  went  around  to  Dr.  Brown's  office  and 
revealed  the  secret  to  him.  Brown  seemed  to  think 
that  he  might  perhaps  do  something  to  rob  the  sit 
uation  of  its  horrors,  and  he  accompanied  Mr.  Fogg 
and  Dr.  Gill  to  the  house.  When  they  entered,  Mrs. 
Fogg  was  rapidly  becoming  hysterical.  Dr.  Brown 
placed  the  baby  on  the  bed ;  he  slapped  its  little 
hands  and  rubbed  its  forehead  and  dashed  cold 
water  in  its  face.  In  a  few  moments  the  baby  open 
ed  its  eyes,  then  it  suddenly  sat  up  and  began  to 
cry.  Mr.  Fogg  used  to  hate  that  noise,  but  now  it 
seemed  to  him  sweeter  than  music.  Mrs.  Fogg  was 
wild  with  joy.  She  took  the  baby  in  her  arms  and 
kissed  and  hugged  it,  and  then  she  said, 

"  What  do  you  think  was  the  matter  with  him, 
doctor  ?" 

"  Why,  your  husband  says  he  mesmerized  the 
child,"  replied  the  doctor,  incautiously  letting  the 
secret  drop. 

Then  Mrs.  Fogg  looked  at  the  culprit  as  if  she 


28  ELBOW-ROOM. 

wished  to  assassinate  him ;  but  she  merely  ejaculated, 
41  Monster !"  and  flew  from  the  room  ;  and  Mr.  Fogg, 
as  he  went  down  with  the  physicians,  put  on  an 
injured  look  and  said, 

"  If  that  baby  wants  to  holloa  now,  I'm  going  to 
let  him  holloa,  if  he  holloas  the  top  of  his  head  off." 

It  was  this  offence,  according  to  popular  rumor, 
that  brought  things  to  a  crisis  in  Mr.  Fogg's  family 
and  induced  Mrs.  Fogg  to  seek  to  remove  the  heavy 
burden  of  woe  imposed  upon  her  by  her  husband. 
Only  a  few  days  later  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Fogg  knocked 
at  the  door  of  Colonel  Coffin's  law  office,  and  then 
filed  in,  Mrs.  Fogg  in  advance.  Mr.  Fogg,  the  reader 
may  care  to  know,  was  a  subdued,  weak-eyed  and 
timid  person.  He  had  the  air  of  a  victim  of  perpet 
ual  tyranny — of  a  man  who  had  been  ruthlessly  and 
remorselessly  sat  upon  until  his  spirit  was  wholly 
gone.  And  Mrs.  Fogg  looked  as  if  she  might  have 
been  his  despot.  She  opened  the  conversation  by 
addressing  the  lawyer: 

"  Colonel,  I  have  called  to  engage  you  as  my 
counsel  in  a  divorce  suit  against  Mr.  Fogg.  I  have 
resolved  to  separate  from  him — to  sunder  our  ties 
and  henceforth  to  live  apart." 

"  Indeed!"  replied  the  colonel;  "  I'm  sorry  to  hear 
that.  What's  the  matter  ?  Has  he  been  beating  and 
ill-treating  you  ?" 

"  Beating !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Fogg,  disdainfully;  "I 
should  think  not !  I  should  like  him  to  try  it." 


THE  FOGG  DIVORCE  CASE.  2$ 

"Maria,  let  me — "  interposed  Mr.  Fogg,  mildly. 

"  Now,  Wilberforce,"  she  exclaimed,  interrupting 
him,  "  you  remain  quiet ;  I  will  explain  this  matter 
to  Colonel  Coffin.  You  see,  colonel,  Mr.  Fogg  is 
eccentric  beyond  endurance.  He  goes  on  continually 
in  a  manner  that  will  certainly  drive  me  to  distraction. 
I  can  stand  it  no  longer.  We  must  be  cut  asunder. 
For  years,  colonel,  Wilberforce  has  been  attempting 
to  learn  to  play  upon  the  flute.  He  has  no  more 
idea  of  music  than  a  crow,  but  he  will  try  to  learn. 
He  has  been  practicing  upon  the  flute  since  1862, 
and  he  has  learned  but  a  portion  of  but  one  tune — 
'  Nelly  Ely.'  He  can  play  but  four  notes,  '  Nelly 
Ely  shuts — '  and  there  he  stops.  He  has  practiced 
these  four  notes  for  fourteen  years.  He  plays  them 
upon  the  porch  in  the  evening ;  he  blows  them  out 
from  the  garret ;  he  stands  out  in  the  yard  and  puffs 
them  ;  he  has  frequently  risen  in  the  night  and  seized 
his  flute  and  played  '  Nel-ly  Ely  shuts'  for  hours, 
until  I  had  to  scream  to  relieve  my  feelings." 

"  Now,  Maria,"  said  Mr.  Fogg,  "  you  know  that  I 
can  play  as  far  as  '  shuts  her  eye' — six  notes  in  all.  I 
learned  them  in  the  early  part  of  June." 

"  Very  well,  now  ;  it's  of  no  consequence.  Don't 
interrupt  me.  This  is  bad  enough.  I  submitted  to 
it  because  I  loved  him.  But  on  Tuesday,  while  I 
was  watching  him  through  the  crack  of  the  parlor 
door,  I  saw  him  wink  twice  at  my  chambermaid ;  I 
saw  him  distinctly." 

"  Maria,"    .shrieked    Fogg,    "  this    is   scandalous. 


30  ELBOW-ROOM. 

You  know  very  well  that  I  am  suffering  from  a  ner 
vous  affection  of  the  eye-lids." 

"  Wilberforce,  hush  !  In  addition  to  this  wicked 
ness,  colonel,  Mr.  Fogg  is  becoming  so  absent- 
minded  that  he  torments  my  life ;  he  makes  me  ut 
terly  wretched.  Four  times  now  has  he  brought 
his  umbrella  to  bed  with  him  and  scratched  me  by 
joggling  it  around  with  the  sharp  'points  of  the  ribs 
toward  me.  What  on  earth  he  means  I  cannot  im 
agine.  He  said  he  thought  somehow  it  was  the 
baby,  but  that  is  so  preposterous  that  I  can  hardly 
believe  him." 

"  Why  can't  you  ?  Don't  you  remember  perfectly 
well  that  I  emptied  a  bottle  of  milk  into  the  um 
brella  twice  ?  Would  I  have  done  that  if  I  hadn't 
thought  it  was  the  baby  ?" 

"  There,  now,  Wilberforce !  that's  enough  from  you. 
Do  let  me  have  a  chance  to  talk !  And,  colonel, 
the  real  baby  he  treats  in  the  most  malignant  man 
ner.  A  few  days  ago  he  mesmerized  it  secretly,  and 
scared  me  so  that  I  am  ill  from  the  effects  of  it  yet. 
I  thought  the  dear  child  would  sleep  for  ever.  And 
in  addition  to  this,  I  came  in  on  Thursday  and  found 
that  he  had  laid  the  large  family  Bible  on  the  dar 
ling's  stomach.  It  was  at  the  last  gasp.  I  thought  it 
would  never  recover." 

"  Maria,  didn't  I  tell  you  I  gave  it  to  the  child  to 
play  with  to  keep  him  quiet?" 

"  Mr.  Fogg,  will  you  please  let  me  get  a  word  in 
edgeways?  Our  older  children,  too,  he  is  simply 


THE  FOGG  DIVORCE   CASE. 


ruining.  He  teaches  them  the  most  pernicious  and 
hurtful  doctrines.  He  told  Johnny  the  other  day 
that  Madagascar  was  an  island  in  the  Peruvian  Ocean 
off  the  coast  of  Illinois,  and  that  a  walrus  was  a  kind 
of  a  race  horse  used  by  the  Caribbees.  And  our 
oldest  girl  told  me  that  he  instructed  her  that  Poly- 
carp  fought  the  battle  of  Waterloo  for  the  purpose 
of  defeating  the  Saracens." 

"  Not    the    Saracens,    Maria ;     Lucy     misunder 
stood—" 

"  Wilberforce,  I  wish  you  would  hush  !  His  gen 
eral  treatment  of  me 
was  scandalous.  He 
was  constantly  taking 
my  teeth  for  the  pur 
pose  of  knocking 
around  the  spigot  in 
the  bath-tub  at  ni^ht 
when  the  baby  wanted 
a  drink,  and  only  last 
week  he  took  both 
sets  after  I  had  gone 

to  bed,  propped  them  apart,  baited  them  with  cheese, 
and  caught  two  horrid  mice  before  morning.  I  was 
so  hurt  by  his  behavior  that  I  drank  some  laudanum 
for  the  purpose  of  committing  suicide,  and  then  Mr. 
Fogg  borrowed  a  pump  in  at  Knott's  drug  store  and 
pumped  me  out  twice  in  such  a  rude  manner  that  I 
have  felt  hollow  ever  since." 

"  I  did  it  from  kindness,  Maria." 


32  ELBOW-ROOM. 

"  Don't  talk  of  kindness  to  me,  Wilberforce,  after 
your  conduct.  And,  colonel,  one  night  last  week, 
after  I  had  retired,  Mr.  Fogg  sat  down  in  the  room 
below  and  determined  to  see  if  it  were  true  that  a 
candle  could  be  shot  through  a  board  from  a  gun. 
He  dropped  a  lighted  candle  in  his  gun,  and  of 
course  it  exploded.  It  came  up  through  the  floor 
and  made  a  large  spot  of  grease  upon  the  ceiling  of 
my  room,  nearly  scaring  me  to  death  and  filling  my 
legs  full  of  bird-shot." 

"  Maria,  I  asked  you  to  believe  that  I  forgot  about 
the  candle  being  lighted.  I  did  it  in  a  fit  of  absent- 
mindedness." 

"  Do  go  into  the  other  room,  Wilberforce,  or  else 
hold  your  tongue.  So,  colonel,  I  want  to  get  a  di 
vorce.  Existence  is  unendurable  to  me.  The  lives 
of  my  children  are  in  danger.  I  cannot  remain  in 
such  slavery  any  longer.  Can  you  release  me  ?" 

Colonel  Coffin  said  he  would  think  it  over  and 
give  her  an  answer  in  a  week.  His  idea  was  to  give 
her  time  to  think  better  of  it.  So  then  she  told 
Wilberforce  to  put  on  his  hat ;  and  when  he  had 
done  so,  he  followed  her  meekly  out,  and  they  went 
home.  It  is  believed  in  the  neighborhood  that  she 
has  concluded  to  stick  to  him  for  a  while  longer. 


CHAPTER   III. 

INTERNAL  NAVIGATION.— AN  UNFORTUNATE 
INVENTOR. 

jHE  village  not  only  has  a  railroad  run 
ning  by  it,  but  it  has  a  canal  upon  which 
a  large  amount  of  traffic  is  done.  There 
has  been  a  good  deal  of  agitation  lately 
concerning  the  possibility  of  improving  locomotion 
upon  the  canal,  and  the  company  offered  a  reward 
for  the  best  device  that  could  be  suggested  in  that 
direction.  A  committee  was  appointed  to  examine 
and  report  upon  the  merits  of  the  various  plans  sub 
mitted.  While  the  subject  was  under  discussion  one 
boat-owner,  Captain  Binns,  made  an  experiment  upon 
his  own  account. 

He  had  a  pair  of  particularly  stubborn  mules  to 
haul  his  boat,  and  it  occurred  to  him  that  he  might 
devise  some  scientific  method  of  inducing  the  said 
mules  to  move  whenever  they  were  inclined  to  be 
baulky.  Both  mules  had  phlegmatic  temperaments ; 
and  when  they  made  up  their  minds  to  stop,  they 
would  do  so  and  refuse  to  go,  no  matter  with 
what  vigor  the  boy  applied  the  whip.  Captain  Binns 
therefore  bought  a  tow-line  made  of  three  strands 

3  33 


34 


ELBOW-ROOM. 


of  galvanized  wire ;  and  placing  iron  collars  upon  the 
necks  of  the  mules,  he  fastened  the  wire  to  them,  and 
then  he  got  a  very  strong  galvanic  battery  and  put 
it  in  the  cabin  of  the  boat,  attaching  it  to  the  other 
end  of  the  line,  forming  a  circuit. 

The  first  time  the  mules  stopped  to  reflect,  the 
captain  sent  a  strong  current  through  the  wire.  The 
leading  mule  gave  a  little  start  of  astonishment,  and 
then  it  looked  around  at  the  boy  upon  the  tow-path 


with  a  mournful  smile  that  seemed  to  say,  "  Sonny,  I 
would  like  to  know  how  you  worked  that?"  But 
the  mules  stood  still.  Then  the  captain  turned  a 
stronger  current  on,  and  the  mule  shied  a  little  and 
looked  hard  at  the  boy,  who  was  sitting  by  whit 
tling  a  stick.  The  captain  sent  another  shock  through 


INTERNAL  NAVIGATION.  35 

the  line,  and  then  the  mule,  convinced  that  that  boy 
was  somehow  responsible  for  the  mysterious  occur 
rence,  reached  over,  seized  the  boy's  jacket  with  his 
teeth,  shook  him  up  and  passed  him  to  the  hind  mule, 
which  kicked  him  carefully  over  the  bank  into  the 
river. 

The  mules  were  about  to  turn  the  matter  over  in 
their  minds  when  Captain  Binns  sent  the  full  force 
of  the  current  through  the  wire  and  kept  it  going 
steadily.  Thereupon  the  animals  became  panic- 
stricken.  They  began  to  rear  and  plunge;  they 
turned  around  and  dashed  down  the  tow-path  toward 
the  boat.  Then  the  line  became  taut;  it  jerked  the 
boat  around  suddenly  with  such  force  that  the  stern 
of  it  broke  through  a  weak  place  in  the  bank,  and 
before  the  captain  could  turn  off  his  battery  the 
mules  had  dashed  around  the  other  side  of  the  toll- 
collector's  cabin,  and  then,  making  a  lurch  to  the 
left,  they  fell  over  the  bank  themselves,  the  line 
scraping  the  cabin,  the  collector,  three  children  and 
a  colored  man  over  with  them.  By  the  time  the  line 
was  cut  and  the  sufferers  rescued  the  mules  were 
drowned  and  all  the  water  in  the  canal  had  gone 
out  through  the  break.  It  cost  Captain  Binns  three 
hundred  dollars  for  damages ;  and  when  he  had 
settled  the  account,  he  concluded  to  wait  for  the  re 
port  of  that  committee  before  making  any  new  ex 
periments. 

The  report  of  the  committee  upon  improved  loco 
motion  was  submitted  to  the  company  during  the 


H* 

36  ELBOW-ROOM. 

following  summer.  It  was  a  long  and  exceedingly 
entertaining  document,  and  the  following  extracts 
from  it  may  possess  some  interest : 

THE    REPORT. 

"  In  reference  to  the  plan  offered  by  Henry  Bush- 
elson,  which  proposes  to  run  the  boats  by  means  of 
his  patent  propeller,  we  may  remark  that  the  steam- 
engine  with  which  the  propeller  is  moved  would  sink 
the  boat;  and  even  if  it  would  not,  the  propeller- 
blades,  being  longer  than  the  depth  of  the  canal, 
would  dig  about  five  hundred  cubic  feet  of  mud  out 
of  the  bottom  at  each  revolution.  As  a  mud-dredge 
Bushelson's  patent  might  be  a  success,  but  as  a  mo 
tive-power  it  is  a  failure;  and  his  suggestion  that  the 
tow-path  might  be  cut  into  lengths  and  laid  side  by 
side  and  sold  for  a  farm,  therefore,  is  not  wholly 
practicable. 

"  The  idea  of  William  Bradley  is  that  holes  might 
be  cut  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat,  and  through  these 
the  legs  of  the  mule  could  be  inserted,  so  that  it 
could  walk  along  the  bottom,  while  its  body  is  safe 
and  dry  inside.  This  notion  is  the  offspring  of  a 
fruitful  and  ingenious  intellect;  and  if  the  water  could 
be  kept  from  coming  through  the  holes,  it  might  be 
considered  valuable  but  for  one  thing — somebody 
would  have  to  invent  a  new  kind  of  mule  with  legs 
about  seven  feet  long.  Mr.  Bradley's  mind  has  not 
yet  devised  any  method  of  procuring  such  a  mule, 
and  unless  he  can  induce  the  ordinary  kind  to  walk 


INTERNAL  NA  VIGA  TION.  37 

upon  stilts,  we  fear  that  the  obstacles  to  success  in 
this  direction  may  be  regarded  as  insurmountable. 

"  Mr.  Peterman  Bostwick  urges  that  important 
results  might  be  secured  by  making  the  canal  an 
inclined  plane,  so  that  when  a  boat  is  placed  upon  it 
the  boat  will  simply  slide  down  hill  by  the  power  of 
the  attraction  of  gravitation.  This  seems  to  us  a 
beautiful  method  of  adapting  to  the  wants  of  man 
one  of  the  most  remarkable  of  the  laws  of  Nature, 
and  we  should  be  inclined  to  give  Mr.  Bostwick  the 
first  prize  but  for  the  fact  that  we  have  discovered, 
upon  investigation,  that  the  water  in  the  canal  also 
would  slide  down  hill,  and  that  it  would  require  about 
fifteen  rivers  the  size  of  the  Mississippi  to  keep  up 
the  supply.  Mr.  Bostwick  does  not  mention  where 
we  are  to  get  those  rivers.  He  does,  however,  say 
that  if  it  shall  be  deemed  inadvisable  to  slope  the 
canal,  the  boats  themselves  might  be  made  in  the 
shape  of  inclined  planes,  so  that  they  would  run 
down  hill  upon  a  level  canal.  There  is  something 
so  deep,  so  amazing,  in  this  proposition  that  yout 
committee  needs  more  time  to  consider  it  and  brood 
over  it. 

"  Mr.  W.  P.  Robbins  proposes  to  draw  off  the 
water  from  the  canal,  lay  rails  on  the  bottom,  and 
then  put  the  boats  on  wheels  and  run  them  with  a 
locomotive.  Your  committee  has  been  very  much 
struck  with  this  proposition,  but  has  concluded,  upon 
reflection,  that  it  is  rather  too  revolutionary.  If 
canal  navigation  should  be  begun  in  this  manner, 


38  ELBOW-ROOM. 

probably  we  should  soon  have  the  railroad  companies 
running  their  trains  on  water  by  means  of  sails,  and 
stage  lines  traveling  in  the  air  with  balloons.  Such 
things  would  unsettle  the  foundations  of  society  and 
induce  anarchy  and  chaos.  A  canal  that  has  no 
water  is  a  licentious  and  incendiary  canal ;  and  it  is 
equally  improper  and  equally  repugnant  to  all  con 
servative  persons  when,  as  Mr.  Robbins  suggests, 
the  boats  are  floated  in  tanks  and  the  tanks  are  run 
on  rails. 

"Your  committee  has  given  much  thought  and 
patient  examination  to  the  plan  of  Mr.  Thompson 
McGlue.  He  suggests  that  the  mules  shall  be  clad 
in  submarine  armor  and  made  to  walk  under  water 
along  the  bottom  of  the  canal,  being  fed  with  air 
through  a  pump.  As  we  have  never  seen  a  mule  in 
action  while  decorated  with  submarine  armor,  we  are 
unable  to  say  with  positiveness  what  his  conduct 
would  be  under  such  circumstances.  But  the  objec 
tions  to  the  plan  are  of  a  formidable  character.  The 
mule  would,  of  course,  be  wholly  excluded  from 
every  opportunity  to  view  the  scenery  upon  the  route, 
and  we  fear  that  this  would  have  a  tendency  to  dis 
courage  him.  Being  under  water,  too,  he  might  be 
tempted  to  stop  frequently  for  the  purpose  of  nib 
bling  at  the  catfish  encountered  by  him,  and  this 
would  distract  his  attention  from  his  work.  Some 
body  would  have  to  dive  whenever  he  got  his  hind 
leg  over  the  tow-line ;  and  when  the  water  was  muddy, 
he  might  lose  his  way  and  either  pull  the  boat  in  the 


INTERNAL  NAVIGATION.  39 

wrong  direction  or  be  continually  butting  against  the 
bank. 

"  Of  the  various  other  plans  submitted,  your  com 
mittee  have  to  say  that  A.  R.  Mackey's  proposition 
to  run  the  boat  by  sails,  and  to  fill  the  sails  with  wind 
by  means  of  a  steam  blower  on  the  vessel ;  James 
Thompson's  plan  of  giving  the  captain  and  crew 
small  scows  to  put  on  their  feet,  so  that  they  could 
stand  overboard  and  push  behind ;  William  Black's 
theory  that  motion  could  be  obtained  by  employing 
trained  sturgeon  to  haul  the  boat ;  and  Martin  Stotes- 
bury's  plea  that  propulsion  could  be  given  by  placing 
a  cannon  upon  the  poop-deck  and  firing  it  over  the 
stern,  so  that  the  recoil  would  shove  the  boat  along, — 
are  wonderful  evidences  of  what  the  human  mind 
can  do  when  it  exerts  itself,  but  they  are  not  as  use 
ful  as  they  are  marvelous." 

The  prize  has  not  yet  been  awarded.  It  is  thought 
that  the  canal  company  will  have  to  make  it  larger 
before  they  secure  exactly  what  they  want. 

There  is  nothing  in  common  between  canals  and 
sausages,  but  the  mention  of  Mr.  William  Bradley's 
name  in  the  above  report  recalls  another  report  in 
which  it  figured.  Bradley  is  an  inventor  who  has  a 
very  prolific  mind,  which,  however,  rarely  produces 
anything  that  anybody  wants.  One  of  Mr.  Bradley's 
inventions  during  the  war  was  entitled  by  him 
"The  Patent  Imperishable  Army  Sausage."  His 
idea  was  to  simplify  the  movements  of  troops  by 


4O  ELBOW-ROOM. 

doing  away  with  heavy  provision-trains  and  to  fur 
nish  soldiers  with  nutritious  food  in  a  condensed  form. 
The  sausage  was  made  on  strictly  scientific  principles. 
It  contained  peas  and  beef,  and  salt  and  pepper,  and 
starch  and  gum-arabic,  and  it  was  stuffed  in  the  skins 
by  a  machine  which  exhausted  the  air,  so  that  it 
would  be  air-tight.  Bradley  said  that  his  sausage 
would  keep  in  any  climate.  You  might  lay  it  on 
the  equator  and  let  the  tropical  sun  scorch  it,  and  it 
would  remain  as  sweet  and  fresh  as  ever;  and  Brad 
ley  said  that  there  was  more  flesh-and-muscle-pro- 
ducing  material  in  a  cubic  inch  of  the  sausage  than 
in  an  entire  dinner  of  roast  turkey  and  other  such 
foolery. 

So  when  Bradley  had  made  up  a  lot  of  the  Im 
perishable,  he  stored  the  bulk  of  them  in  the  garret; 
and  putting  a  sample  of  them  in  his  pocket,  he  went 
down  to  Washington  to  see  the  Secretary  of  War, 
to  get  him  to  introduce  them  to  the  army. 

He  walked  into  the  secretary's  office  and  pulled 
out  a  sausage,  and  holding  it  toward  him  was  about 
to  explain  it  to  him,  when  the  secretary  suddenly 
dodged  behind  the  table.  The  movement  struck 
Bradley  as  being  queer,  and  he  walked  around  after 
the  secretary,  still  holding  out  a  sample  of  the  Im 
perishable.  Then  the  secretary  made  a  bolt  for  the 
door  and  went  out,  and  presently  in  came  a  couple 
of  clerks  with  shot-guns.  They  aimed  at  Bradley, 
and  told  him  to  drop  his  weapon  or  they  would  fire. 
He  deposited  the  sausage  on  the  table  and  asked 


BRADLEY^S  SAUSAGE.  41 

them  what  was  the  matter,  and  then  the  secretary 
came  in  and  said  he  mistook  the  sausage  for  a  re 
volver.  When  Bradley  explained  his  mission,  the 
secretary  told  him  that  nothing  could  be  done  with- 


out  the  action  of  Congress,  and  he  recommended 
the  inventor  to  go  up  to  the  Capitol  and  push  his 
sausage  through  there. 

So  Bradley  was  on  hand  next  day  before  the  ses 
sion  opened,  and  he  laid  a  sausage  on  the  desk  of 
each  member.  When  the  House  assembled,  there 


42  ELBOW-ROOM. 

was  a  large  diversity  of  opinion  respecting  the  mean 
ing  of  the  extraordinary  display.  Some  were  in 
clined  to  regard  the  article  as  an  infernal  machine 
introduced  by  some  modern  Guy  Fawkes,  while 
others  leaned  to  the  view  that  it?  was  a  new  kind  of 
banana  developed  by  the  Agricultural  Department. 
After  a  while  Bradley  turned  up  and  explained,  and 
he  spent  the  winter  there  trying  to  force  his  sausage 
on  his  beloved  country.  At  the  very  end  of  the  ses 
sion  a  bill  was  smuggled  through,  ordering  the  com 
missary  department  of  the  army  to  appoint  a  com 
mission  to  investigate  Bradley's  sausage,  and  to 
report  to  the  Secretary  of  War. 

When  the  commission  was  organized,  it  came  on 
with  Bradley  to  his  home  on  his  farm  to  examine 
his  method.  As  the  party  approached  the  house  a 
terrific  smell  greeted  them,  and  upon  entering  the 
front  door  it  became  nearly  unendurable.  Mrs.  Brad 
ley  said  she  thought  there  must  be  something  dead 
under  the  washboard.  But  upon  going  into  the 
garret  the  origin  of  the  -  smell  became  obvious. 
About  half  a  ton  of  the  Patent  Imperishable  Sau 
sage  lay  on  the  floor  in  a  condition  of  fearful  decay. 
Then  the  commissioners  put  their  fingers  to  their 
noses  and  adjourned,  and  the  chairman  went  to  the 
hotel  to  write  out  his  report.  It  was  about  as 
follows : 

"  After  a  careful  examination  of  the  Bradley  Pat 
ent  Imperishable  Army  Sausage,  we  find  that  it  is 
eminently  suitable  for  certain  well-defined  purposes. 


BRADLEY'S  SAUSAGE.  43 

If  it  should  be  introduced  to  warfare  as  a  missile,  we 
could  calculate  with  precision  that  its  projection 
from  a  gun  into  a  besieged  town  would  instantly 
induce  the  garrison  to  evacuate  the  place  and  quit ; 
but  the  barbarity  which  would  be  involved  in  sub 
jecting  even  an  enemy  to  direct  contact  with  the 
Bradley  Sausage  is  so  frightful  that  we  shrink  from 
recommending  its  use,  excepting  in  extreme  cases. 
The  odor  disseminated  by  the  stink-pot  used  in  war 
by  the  Chinese  is  fragrant  and  balmy  compared  with 
the  perfume  which  belongs  to  this  article.  It  might 
also  be  used  profitably  as  a  manure  for  poor  land, 
and  in  a  very  cold  climate,  where  it  is  absolutely 
certain  to  be  frozen,  it  could  be  made  serviceable  as 
a  tent-pin. 

"  But  as  an  article  of  food  it  is  open  to  several 
objections.  Bradley's  method  of  mixing  is  so  de 
fective  that  he  has  one  sausage  filled  with  peas,  an 
other  with  gum-arabic,  another  with  pepper  and 
another  with  beef.  The  beef  sausages  will  certainly 
kill  any  man  who  eats  a  mouthful,  unless  they  are 
constantly  kept  on  ice  from  the  hour  they  are  made, 
and  the  gum-arabic  sausages  are  not  sufficiently 
nutritious  to  enable  an  army  to  conduct  an  arduous 
campaign.  We  are  therefore  disposed  to  recom 
mend  that  the  sausage  shall  not  be  accepted  by  the 
department,  and  that  Bradley's  friends  put  him  in  an 
asylum  where  his  mind  can  be  cared  for." 

When  Bradley  heard  about  the  report,  he  was  in 
dignant;  and  after  reflecting  that  republics  are  al- 


44  ELBOW-ROOM. 

ways  ungrateful,  he  sent  a  box  of  the  sausages  to 
Bismarck,  in  order  to  ascertain  if  they  could  not  be 
introduced  to  the  German  army.  Three  months 
later  he  was  shot  at  one  night  by  a  mysterious  per 
son,  and  the  belief  prevails  in  this  neighborhood 
that  it  was  an  assassin  sent  over  to  this  country  by 
Bismarck  for  the  single  purpose  of  butchering  the 
inventor  of  the  Imperishable  Army  Sausage.  Since 
then  Bradley  has  abandoned  the  project,  and  he  is 
now  engaged  in  perfecting  a  washing-machine  which 
has  reached  such  a  stage  that  on  the  first  trial  it  tore 
four  shirts  and  a  bolster-slip  to  rags. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

THE  FACTS  IN  REFERENCE  TO  MR.  BUTTERWICK^S 
HORSE. 

|R.  BUTTERWICK  is  not  a  good  judge 
of  horses,  but  a  brief  while  ago  he 
thought  he  would  like  to  own  a  good 
horse,  and  so  he  went  to  a  sale  at  a  farm 
over  in  Tulpehocken  township,  and  for  some  reason 
that  has  not  yet  been  revealed  he  bid  upon  the  for- 
lornest  wreck  of  a  horse  that  ever  retained  vitality. 
It  was  knocked  down  to  him  before  he  had  a  chance 
to  think,  and  he  led  it  home  with  something  like  a 
feeling  of  dismay.  The  purchase  in  a  day  or  two 
got  to  be  the  joke  of  the  whole  village,  and  people 
poked  fun  at  Butterwick  in  the  most  merciless  man 
ner.  But  he  was  inclined  to  take  a  philosophical 
view  of  the  matter,  and  to  present  it  in  rather  a  novel 
and  interesting  light.  When  I  spoke  to  him  of  the 
unkind  things  that  were  said  about  the  horse,  he 
said, 

"  Oh,  I  know  that  they  say  he  has  the  heaves ;  but 
one  of  the  things  I  bought  him  for  was  because  he 
breathes  so  loud.  That  is  a  sign  that  he  has  a 
plenty  of  wind.  You  take  any  ordinary  horse,  and 

45 


46  ELBOW-ROOM. 

you  can't  hear  him  draw  a  breath;  his  lungs  are  frail 
and  he  daren't  inflate  'em.  But  my  horse  fills  his 
up  and  blows  'em  out  again  vigorously,  so  people 
can  hear  for  themselves  how  he  enjoys  the  fresh  air. 
Now,  I'll  let  you  into  a  secret,  only  mind  you  don't 
go  to  whispering  it  about :  When  you  want  to  buy 
a  horse,  go  and  stand  off  a  quarter  of  a  mile  and  see 
if  you  can  hear  him  kinder  sighing.  If  you  can, 
why  go  for  that  horse;  he's  worth  his  weight  in 
gold.  That's  strictly  between  you  and  me,  now 
mind ! 

"And  you  know  that  old  idiot,  Potts,  was  trying 
to  joke  me  because  the  horse  was  sprung  in  the 
knees,  as  if  that  was  not  the  very  thing  that  made 
me  resolve  to  have  that  horse  if  I  ran  him  up  to  five 
hundred  dollars  !  You  are  a  young  man  with  no  ex 
perience  in  the  world,  and  I'll  tell  you  why  I  like  such 
legs  :  They  give  the  horse  more  leverage.  Do  you 
see  ?  When  a  horse's  leg  is  straight,  the  more  he 
bears  on  it,  the  more  likely  he  is  to  fracture  the  bone. 
But  you  curve  that  leg  a  little  to  the  front,  and  the 
upper  bone  bears  obliquely  on  the  lower  bone,  the 
pressure  is  distributed  and  the  horse  has  plenty  of 
purchase.  It  is  the  well-known  principle  of  the  arch, 
you  know.  If  it's  good  in  building  a  house,  why  isn't 
it  good  in  getting  up  a  horse  ?  Sprung  in  the  knees ! 
Why,  good  gracious,  man!  a  horse  that  is  not  sprung 
is  not  any  horse  at  all ;  he  is  only  fit  for  soap-fat  and 
glue.  Now,  that's  as  true  as  my  name's  Butter- 
wick. 


MR.  B  UTTER  WICK '  S  HORSE.  47 

"  And  as  for  his  tail,  that  they  talk  so  much  about ! 
Who'n  the  thunder  wanted  a  long  tail  on  the  horse  ? 
I  knew  well  enough  it  was  short  and  had  only  six 
or  seven  hairs  on  it.  But  the  Romans  and  Egypt 
ians  made  their  horses  bob-tailed,  and  why  ?  May 
be  you  ain't  up  in  ancient  history  ?  Why,  those  old 
Romans  knew  that  a  horse  with  a  fifteen-inch  tail 
had'  more  meat  on  him  than  a  horse  with  a  four-inch 
tail,  and  consequently  required  more  nourishment. 
They  knew  that  more  muscular  force  is  expended  in 
brandishing  a  long  tail  than  a  short  one,  and  muscu 
lar  force  is  made  by  food,  so  they  chopped  off  their 
horses'  tails  to  make  'em  eat  less.  They  had  level 
heads  in  those  times.  They  were  up  in  scientific 
knowledge.  But  what  do  these  idiots  around  this 
town  know  about  such  things  ?  Let  'em  laugh.  I 
can  stand  a  tail  that  saves  me  a  couple  of  bushels 
of  oats  a  year.  I'll  bet  you  anything  that  there's 
millions  and  millions  of  dollars  wasted — just  thrown 
away — in  this  country  every  year  furnishing  nutriment 
to  tails  that  are  of  no  earthly  use  to  the  horses  after 
they're  nourished.  You  can  depend  on  that.  I've 
examined  the  government  statistics,  and  they're 
enough  to  make  a  man  cry  to  see  how  wasteful  the 
American  people  are. 

"  And  when  you  talk  about  his  ribs  showing  so 
plainly  through  his  sides,  you  prove  that  you  have 
a  very  singular  want  of  taste.  Which  is  handsomer, 
a  flat  wall  or  a  wall  with  a  surface  varied  with  col 
umns  and  pilasters  ?  Well,  then,  when  you  take  a 


48  ELBOW-ROOM. 

horse,  no  man  who  loves  art  wants  to  see  him 
smooth  and  even  from  stem  to  stern.  What  you 
want  is  a  varied  surface — a  little  bit  of  hill  and  a 
little  bit  of  valley;  and  you  get  it  in  a  horse  like 
mine.  Most  horses  are  monotonous.  They  tire  on 
you.  But  swell  out  the  ribs,  and  there  you  have  a 
horse  that  always  pleases  the  eye  and  appeals  to  the 
finer  sensibilities  of  the  mind.  Besides,  you  are 
always  perfectly  certain  that  he  has  his  full  number 
of  ribs,  and  that  the  man  you  buy  him  of  is  not 
keeping  back  a  single,  solitary  bone.  Your  horse  is 
all  there,  and  you  go  to  bed  at  night  comfortable 
because  you  know  it.  That's  the  way  I  look  at  it ; 
and  without  caring  to  have  it  mentioned  around,  I 
don't  mind  telling  you  that  I  know  a  man  who  came 
all  the  way  from  Georgia  to  buy  my  horse  simply 
because  he  heard  that  his  ribs  stuck  out.  I  got  my 
bid  in  ahead  of  him,  and  he  went  home  the  worst 
disgusted  man  you  ever  saw. 

"  And  about  his  having  glanders  and  botts  and 
blind  staggers  and  a  raw  shoulder,  I  can  tell  you 
that  those  things  never  attack  any  but  a  thorough 
bred  horse ;  and  for  my  part,  I  made  up  my  mind 
years  ago,  when  I  was  a  child,  that  if  any  man  ever 
offered  me  a  horse  that  hadn't  blind  staggers  I 
wouldn't  take  him  as  a  gift.  Now,  that's  as  true  as 
you're  alive.  Professor  Owen  says  that  so  far  from 
regarding  glanders  as  a  disease  he  considers  it  the 
crowning  glory  of  a  good  horse,  and  he  wants  the 
English  government  to  pass  a  law  inoculating  every 


MR.  BUTTERWICK1  S  HORSE.  49 

horse  on  the  island  with  it.  You  write  to  him  and 
ask  him  if  that  ain't  so." 

And  so  Butterwick  put  his  phenomenal  horse  in 
his  stable,  hired  an  Irishman  to  take  care  of  it,  and 
possessed  his  soul  in  peace.  However,  before  he 
fairly  had  a  chance  to  enjoy  his  purchase,  he  was 
summoned  to  St.  Louis  to  look  after  some  business 
matters,  and  he  was  detained  there  for  about  six 
weeks.  During  his  absence  Mrs.  Butterwick  assumed 
the  responsibility  for  the  management  of  the  horse  ; 
and  as  she  knew  as  much  about  taking  care  of  horses 
as  she  did  about  conducting  the  processes  of  the 
sidereal  system,  the  result  was  that  Mr.  Butterwick's 
horse  was  the  unconscious  parent  of  infinite  disaster. 
When  Butterwick  returned  and  had  kissed  his  wife 
and  talked  over  his  journey,  the  following  conversa 
tion  ensued.  Mrs.  Butterwick  said, 

"You  know  our  horse,  dearest?" 

"  Yes,  sweet ;  how  is  he  getting  along  ?" 

"  Not  so  very  well ;  he  has  cost  a  great  deal  of 
money  since  you've  been  away." 

"Indeed?" 

"  Yes ;  besides  his  regular  feed  and  Patrick's 
wages  as  hostler,  I  have  on  hand  unpaid  bills  to  the 
amount  of  two  thousand  dollars  on  his  account." 

"  Two  thousand  !  Why,  Emma,  you  amaze  me ! 
What  on  earth  does  it  mean  ?" 

"  I'll  tell  you  the  whole  story,  love.  Just  after  you 
left  he  took  a  severe  cold,  and  he  coughed  incessantly. 
You  could  hear  him  cough  for  miles.  All  the  neigh- 


5O  ELBOW-ROOM. 

bors  complained  of  it,  and  Mr.  Potts,  next  door,  was 
so  mad  that  he  shot  at  the  horse  four  times.  Patrick 
said  it  was  whooping-cough." 

"  Whooping-cough,  darling !  Impossible  !  A  horse 
never  has  whooping-cough." 

"  Well,  Patrick  said  so.  And  as  I  always  give 
paregoric  to  the  children  when  they  cough,  I  con 
cluded  that  it  would  be  good  for  the  horse,  so  I 
bought  a  bucketful  and  gave  it  to  him  with  sugar." 

"  A  bucketful  of  paregoric,  my  love !  It  was 
enough  to  kill  him." 

"  Patrick  said  that  was  a  regular  dose  for  a  horse 
of  sedentary  habits ;  and  it  didn't  kill  him :  it  put 
him  to  sleep.  You  will  be  surprised,  dear,  to  learn 
that  the  horse  slept  straight  ahead  for  four  weeks. 
Never  woke  up  once.  I  was  frightened  about  it,  but 
Patrick  told  me  that  it  was  a  sign  of  a  good  horse. 
He  said  that  Dexter  often  slept  six  months  on  a 
stretch,  and  that  once  they  took  Goldsmith  Maid  to 
a  race  while  she  was  sound  asleep  and  she  trotted  a 
mile  in  2 : 15,  I  think  he  said,  without  getting  awake." 

"  Patrick  said  that,  did  he  ?" 

"  Yes ;  that  was  at  the  end  of  the  second  week. 
But  as  the  horse  didn't  rouse  up,  Patrick  said  it 
couldn't  be  the  paregoric  that  kept  him  asleep  so 
long ;  and  he  came  to  me  and  asked  me  not  to  men 
tion  it,  but  he  had  suspicions  that  Mr.  Fogg  had 
mesmerized  him." 

"  I  never  heard  of  a  horse  being  mesmerized, 
dearest." 


MR.  BUTTER  WICK'S  HORSE.  51 

"  Neither  did  I,  but  Patrick  said  it  was  a  common 
thing  with  the  better  class  of  horses.  And  when  he 
kept  on  sleeping,  dear,  I  got  frightened,  and  Patrick 
consulted  the  horse-doctor,  who  came  over  with  a 
galvanic  battery,  which  he  said  would  wake  the 
horse.  They  fixed  the  wires  to  his  leg  and  turned 
on  the  current.  It  did  rouse  him.  He  got  up  and 
kicked  fourteen  boards  out  of  the  side  of  the  stable 
and  then  jumped  the  fence  into  Mr.  Potts'  yard, 
where  he  trod  on  a  litter  of  young  pigs,  kicked  two 
cows  to  death  and  bit  the  tops  off  of  eight  apple 
trees.  Patrick  said  he  tried  to  swallow  Mrs.  Potts' 
baby,  but  I  didn't  see  him  do  that.  Patrick  may 
have  exaggerated.  I  don't  know.  It  seems  hardly 
likely,  does  it,  that  the  horse  would  actually  try  to 
eat  a  child  ?" 

"The  man  that  sold  him  to  me  didn't  mention 
that  he  was  fond  of  babies." 

"  But  he  got  over  the  attack.  The  only  effect  was 
that  the  paregoric  or  the  electricity,  or  something, 
turned  his  hair  all  the  wrong  way,  and  he  looks  the 
queerest  you  ever  saw.  Oh  yes;  it  did  seem  to 
affect  his  appetite,  too.  He  appeared  to  be  always 
hungry.  He  ate  up  the  hay-rack  and  two  sets  of 
harness.  And  one  night  he  broke  out  and  nibbled 
off  all  the  door-knobs  on  the  back  of  the  house." 

"  Door-knobs,  Emma  ?  Has  he  shown  a  fondness 
for  door-knobs  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  and  he  ate  Louisa's  hymn-book,  too.  She 
left  it  lying  on  the  table  on  the  porch.  Patrick  said 


52  ELBOW-ROOM. 

he  knew  a  man  in  Ireland  whose  horse  would  starve 
to  death  unless  they  fed  him  on  Bibles.  If  he  couldn't 
get  Bibles,  he'd  take  Testaments ;  but  unless  he  got 
Scriptures  of  some  kind,  he  was  utterly  intractable." 

"  I  would  like  to  have  had  a  look  at  that  horse, 
sweet." 

"  So  we  got  the  horse-doctor  again,  and  he  said 
that  what  the  poor  animal  wanted  was  a  hypodermic 
injection  of  morphia  to  calm  his  nerves.  He  told 
Patrick  to  get  a  machine  for  placing  the  morphia  un 
der  the  horse's  skin.  But  Patrick  said  that  he  could 
do  it  without  the  machine.  So  one  day  he  got  the 
morphia,  and  began  to  bore  a  hole  in  the  horse  with 
a  gimlet." 

"A  gimlet,  Emma?" 

"An  ordinary  gimlet.  But  it  seemed  unpleasant 
to  the  horse,  and  so  he  kicked  Patrick  through  the 
partition,  breaking  three  of  his  ribs.  Then  I  got  the 
doctor  to  perform  the  operation  properly,  and  the 
horse  after  that  appeared  right  well,  excepting  that 
Patrick  said  that  he  had  suddenly  acquired  an  ex 
traordinary  propensity  for  standing  on  his  head." 

"  He  is  the  first  horse  that  ever  wanted  to  do  that, 
love." 

"  Patrick  said  not.  He  told  me  about  a  man  he 
worked  for  in  Oshkosh  who  had  a  team  of  mules 
which  always  stood  on  their  heads  when  they  were 
not  at  work.  He  said  all  the  mules  in  Oshkosh  did. 
So  Patrick  tied  a  heavy  stone  to  our  horse's  tail  to 
balance  him  and  keep  him  straight.  And  this  worked 


MR.  B  UTTER  WICK '  S  HORSE.  5  3 

to  a  charm  until  I  took  the  horse  to  church  one  Sun 
day,  when,  while  a  crowd  stood  round  him  looking 
at  him,  he  swung  his  tail  around  and  brained  six  boys 
with  the  stone." 

"  Brained  them,  love  ?" 

"  Well,  I  didn't  see  them  myself,  but  Patrick  told 
me,  when  I  came  out  of  church,  that  they  were  as 
good  as  dead.  And  he  said  he  remembered  that 
that  Oshkosh  man  used  to  coax  his  mules  to  stand 
on  their  legs  by  letting  them  hear  music.  It  soothed 
them,  he  said.  And  so  Patrick  got  a  friend  to  come 
around  and  sit  in  the  stall  and  calm  our  horse  by 
playing  on  the  accordion." 

"  Did  it  make  him  calmer?" 

"  It  seemed  to  at  first ;  but  one  day  Patrick  under 
took  to  bleed  him  for  the  blind  staggers,  and  he  must 
have  cut  the  horse  in  the  wrong  place,  for  the  poor 
brute  fell  over  on  the  accordion  person  and  died, 
nearly  killing  the  musician." 

"  The  horse  is  dead,  then  ?     Where  is  the  bill  ?" 

"  I'll  read  it  to  you  : 

THE   BILL. 

Horse-doctor's  fees $125  50 

Paregoric  for  cough 80  oo 

Galvanic  battery 10  oo 

Repairing  stable 12  25 

Potts'  cow,  pigs,  apple  trees  and  baby .,-    251  oo 

Damage  to  door-knobs,  etc 175  °° 

Louisa's  hymn-book 25 

Gimlet  and  injections 15  oo 

Repairing  Patrick's  ribs 145  oo 


54  ELBOW-ROOM. 

Music  on  accordion • 21  oo 

Damages  to  player 184  oo 

Burying  six  boys 995  oo 

$2,014  °° 

"  That  is  all,  love,  is  it  ?" 

"Yes." 

Then  Mr.  Butterwick  folded  the  bill  up  and  went 
out  into  the  back  yard  to  think.  Subsequently,  he 
told  me  that  he  had  concluded  to  repudiate  the  un 
paid  portions  of  the  bill,  and  then  to  try  to  purchase 
a  better  horse.  He  said  he  had  heard  that  Mr.  Key- 
ser,  a  farmer  over  in  Lower  Merion,  had  a  horse  that 
he  wanted  to  sell,  and  he  asked  me  to  go  over  there 
with  him  to  see  about  it.  I  agreed  to  do  so. 

When  we  reached  the  place,  Mr.  Keyser  asked  us 
into  the  parlor,  and  while  we  were  sitting  there  we 
heard  Mrs.  Keyser  in  the  dining-room,  adjoining, 
busy  preparing  supper.  Keyser  would  not  sell  his 
horse,  but  he  was  quite  sociable,  and  after  some 
conversation,  he  said, 

"Gentlemen,  in  1847  I  owned  a  hoss  that  never 
seen  his  equal  in  this  State.  And  that  hoss  once  did 
the  most  extr'ordinary  thing  that  was  ever  done  by 
an  animal.  One  day  I  had  him  out,  down  yer  by 
the  creek—" 

Here  Mrs.  Keyser  opened  the  door  and  exclaimed, 
shrilly, 

"  Keyser,  if  you  want  any  supper,  you'd  better  get 
me  some  kin'iin-wood  pretty  quick." 

Then  Keyser  turned  to  us  and  said, 


MR.  BUTTERWICK'S  HORSE.  55 

"  Excuse  me  for  a  few  moments,  gentlemen,  if  you 
please." 

A  moment  later  we  heard  him  splitting  wood  in 
the  cellar  beneath,  and  indulging  in  some  very  hard 
language  with  his  soft  pedal  down,  Mrs.  Keyser 
being  the  object  of  his  objurgations.  After  a  while 
he  came  into  the  parlor  again,  took  his  seat,  wiped 
the  moisture  from  his  brow,  put  his  handkerchief  in 
his  hat,  his  hat  on  the  floor,  and  resumed : 

"As  I  was  sayin',  gentlemen,  one  day  I  had  that 
hoss  down  yer  by  the  creek ;  it  was  in  '47  or  '48,  I 
most  forget  which.  But,  howsomedever,  I  took  him 
down  yer  by  the  creek,  and  I  was  jest  about  to — " 

Mrs.  Keyser  (opening  the  door  suddenly).  "  You, 
Keyser !  there's  not  a  drop  of  water  in  the  kitchen, 
and  unless  some's  drawed  there'll  be  no  supper  in 
this  house  this  night,  now  mind  me  /" 

Keyser  (with  a  look  of  pain  upon  his  face).  "  Well, 
well !  this  is  too  bad !  too  bad !  Gentlemen,  just 
wait  half  a  minute.  I'll  be  right  back.  The  old 
woman's  rarin'  'round,  and  she  won't  wait." 

Then  we  heard  Keyser  at  work  at  the  well-bucket ; 
and  looking  out  the  back  window,  we  saw  him  bring 
ing  in  a  pail  of  water.  On  his  way  he  encountered 
a  dog,  and  in  order  to  give  his  pent-up  feelings  ade 
quate  expression,  he  kicked  the  animal  clear  over 
the  fence.  Presently  he  came  into  the  parlor, 
mopped  his  forehead,  and  began  again. 

Keyser.  "As  I  was  sayin',  that  hoss  was  perfeckly 
astonishin'.  On  the  day  of  which  I  was  speakin',  I 


56  ELBOW-ROOM. 

was  ridin'  him  down  yer  by  the  creek,  clost  by  the 
corn-field,  and  I  was  jest  about  to  wade  him  in,  when, 
all  of  a  suddent-like,  he—" 

Mrs.  Keyser(zk  the  door,  and  with  her  voice  pitched 
at  a  high  key).  "  ARE  you  goin'  to  fetch  that  ham 
from  the  smoke-house,  or  ARE  you  goin'  to  set  there 
jabberin'  and  go  without  your  supper?  If  that 
ham  isn't  here  in  short  order,  I'll  know  the  reason 
why.  You  hear  me?" 

Keyser  (his  face  red  and  his  manner  excited).  "Gra- 
SHUS  !  If  this  isn't —  Well,  well !  this  just  lays  over 
all  the —  Pshaw !  Mr.  Butterwick,  if  you'll  hold  on 
for  a  second,  I'll  be  with  you  agin.  I'll  be  right 
back." 

Then  we  heard  Keyser  slam  open  the  smoke 
house  door,  and  presently  he  emerged  with  a  ham, 
which  he  carried  in  one  hand,  while  with  the  other 
he  made  a  fist,  which  he  shook  threateningly  at  the 
kitchen  door,  as  if  to  menace  Mrs.  Keyser,  who 
couldn't  see  him. 

Again  he  entered  the  parlor,  smelling  of  smoke 
and  ham,  and,  crossing  his  legs,  he  continued. 

Keyser.  "  Excuse  these  little  interruptions ;  the  old 
woman's  kinder  sing'ler,  and  you've  got  to  humor 
her  to  live  in  peace  with  her.  Well,  sir,  as  I  said,  I 
rode  that  extr'ordinary  hoss  down  yer  by  the  creek 
on  that  day  to  which  I  am  referrin',  and  after  passin' 
the  cornfield  I  was  goin'  to  wade  him  into  the  creek ; 
just  then,  all  of  a  suddent,  what  should  that  hoss  do 
but—" 


MR.  BUTTERWICK' S  HORSE.  57 

Mrs.  Keyser  (at  the  door  again).  "  Keyser,  you 
lazy  vagabone !  Why  don't  you  'tend  to  milkin' 
them  cows  ?  Not  one  mossel  of  supper  do  you  put 
in  your  mouth  this  night  unless  you  do  the  milkin' 
right  off.  You  sha'n't  touch  a  crust,  or  my  name's 
not  Emeline  Keyser !" 

Then  Keyser  leaped  to  his  feet  in  a  perfect  frenzy 
of  rage  and  hurled  the  chair  at  Mrs.  Keyser ;  where 
upon  she  seized  the  poker  and  came  toward  him 
with  savage  earnestness.  Then  we  adjourned  to  the 
front  yard  suddenly ;  and  as  Butterwick  and  I  got 
into  the  carriage  to  go  home,  Keyser,  with  a-  hum 
ble  expression  in  his  eyes,  said  : 

"  Gentlemen,  I'll  tell  you  that  hoss  story  another 
time,  when  the  old  woman's  calmer.  Good-day." 

I  am  going  to  ask  him  to  write  it  out.  I  am  anx 
ious  to  know  what  that  horse  did  down  at  the  creek. 

Butterwick  subsequently  bought  another  horse 
from  a  friend  of  his  in  the  city,  but  the  animal  devel 
oped  eccentricities  of  such  a  remarkable  character 
that  he  became  unpopular.  Butterwick,  in  explain 
ing  the  subject  to  me,  said, 

"  I  was  surprised  to  find,  when  I  drove  him  out  for 
the  first  time,  that  he  had  an  irresistible  propensity  to 
back.  He  seemed  to  be  impressed  with  a  conviction 
that  nature  had  put  his  hind  legs  in  front,  and  that 
he  could  see  with  his  tail ;  and  whenever  I  attempted 
to  start  him,  he  always  proceeded  backward  until  I 
whipped  him  savagely,  and  then  he  would  go  in  a 
proper  manner,  but  suddenly,  and  with  the  air  of  a 


$8  ELBOW-ROOM. 

horse  who  had  a  conviction  that  there  was  a  lunatic 
in  the  carriage  who  didn't  know  what  he  was  about. 
One  day,  while  we  were  coming  down  the  street, 
this  theory  became  so  strong  that  he  suddenly 
stopped  and  backed  the  carriage  through  the  plate- 
glass  window  of  Mackey's  drug-store.  After  that  I 
always  hitched  him  up  with  his  head  toward  the  car 
riage,  and  then  he  seemed  to  feel  better  contented, 
only  sometimes  he  became  too  sociable,  and  used  to 
put  his  head  over  the  dasher  and  try  to  chew  my 
legs  or  to  eat  the  lap-cover. 

"  Besides,  the  peculiar  arrangement  of  the  animal 
excited  unpleasant  remark  when  I  drove  out;  and 
when  I  wanted  to  stop  and  would  hitch  him  by  the 
tail  to  a  post,  he  had  a  very  disagreeable  way  of 
reaching  out  with  his  hind  legs  and  sweeping  the 
sidewalk  whenever  he  saw  anybody  that  he  felt  as  if 
he  would  like  to  kick. 

"  He  was  not  much  of  a  saddle-horse ;  not  that  he 
would  attempt  to  throw  his  rider,  but  whenever  a 
saddle  was  put  on  him  it  made  his  back  itch,  and  he 
would  always  insist  upon  rubbing  it  against  the  first 
tree  or  fence  or  corner  of  a  house  that  he  came  to ; 
and  if  he  could  bark  the  rider's  leg,  he  seemed  to 
be  better  contented.  The  last  time  I  rode  him  was 
upon  the  day  of  Mr.  Johnson's  wedding.  I  had  on 
my  best  suit,  and  on  the  way  to  the  festival  there 
was  a  creek  to  be  forded.  When  the  horse  got  into 
the  middle  of  it,  he  took  a  drink,  and  then  looked 
around  at  the  scenery.  Then  he  took  another  drink, 


MR.  BUTTERWICK'S  HORSE. 


59 


and  gazed  again  at  the  prospect.  Then  he  sud 
denly  felt  tired  and  lay  down  in  the  water.  By  the 
time  he  was  sufficiently  rested  I  was  ready  to  go 
home. 

"  The  next  day  he  was  taken  sick.  Patrick  said  it 
was  the  epizooty,  and  he  mixed  him  up  some  tur 
pentine  in  a  bucket  of  warm  feed.  That  night  the 
horse  had  spasms,  and  kicked  four  of  the  best  boards 
out  of  the  side  of  the  stable.  Jones  said  that  horse 
hadn't  the  epizooty,  but  the  botts,  and  that  the  tur 
pentine  ought  to  have  been  rubbed  on  the  outside 


60  ELBOW-ROOM. 

of  him  instead  of  going  into  his  stomach.  So  we 
rubbed  him  with  turpentine,  and  next  morning  he 
hadn't  a  hair  on  his  body. 

"  Colonel  Coffin  told  me  that  if  I  wanted  to  know 
what  really  ailed  that  horse  he  would  tell  me.  It 
was  glanders,  and  if  he  wasn't  bled  he  would  die. 
So  the  colonel  bled  him  for  me.  We  took  away  a 
tubful,  and  the  horse  thinned  down  so  that  his 
ribs  made  him  look  as  if  he  had  swallowed  a  flour- 
barrel. 

"  Then  I  sent  for  the  horse-doctor,  and  he  said  there 
was  nothing  the  matter  with  the  horse  but  heaves, 
and  he  left  some  medicine  '  to  patch  up  his  wind.' 
The  result  was  that  the  horse  coughed  for  two  days 
as  if  he  had  gone  into  galloping  consumption,  and 
between  two  of  the  coughs  he  kicked  the  hired  man 
through  the  partition  and  bit  our  black-and-tan  ter 
rier  in  half. 

"  I  thought  perhaps  a  little  exercise  might  improve 
his  health,  so  I  drove  him  out  one  day,  and  he  pro 
ceeded  in  such  a  peculiar  manner  that  I  was  afraid 
he  might  suddenly  come  apart  and  fall  to  pieces. 
When  we  reached  the  top  of  White  House  hill, 
which  is  very  steep  by  the  side  of  the  road,  he 
stopped,  gave  a  sort  of  shudder,  coughed  a  couple 
of  times,  kicked  a  fly  off  his  side  with  his  hind  leg, 
and  then  lay  down  and  calmly  rolled  over  the  bank. 
I  got  out  of  the  carriage  before  he  fell,  and  I  watched 
him  pitch  clear  down  to  the  valley  beneath,  with  the 
vehicle  dragging  after  him.  When  we  got  to  him 


MR.  B  UTTER  WICK*  S  HORSE.  6 1 

he  was  dead,  and  the  man  at  the  farm-house  close  by 
said  he  had  the  blind  staggers. 

"I  sold  him  for  eight  dollars  to  a  man  who  wanted 
to  make  him  up  into  knife-handles  and  suspender- 
buttons  ;  and  since  then  we  have  walked.  I  hardly 
think  I  shall  buy  another  horse.  My  luck  doesn't 
seem  good  enough  when  I  make  ventures  of  that 
kind." 


CHAPTER  V. 

SOME  EDUCATIONAL  FACTS. 

|HE  public-school  system  of  the  village  was 
reorganized  during  a  recent  summer;  and 
in  consequence  of  a  considerable  enlarge 
ment  of  the  single  school-building  and 
the  great  increase  o(  the  number  of  scholars,  it  was 
determined  to  engage  an  additional  woman-teacher 
in  the  girls'  department.  Accordingly,  the  board  of 
directors  advertised  for  a  suitable  person,  instructing 
applicants  to  call  upon  Judge  Twiddler,  the  chair 
man.  A  day  or  two  later,  Mrs.  Twiddler  advertised 
in  a  city  paper  for  a  cook,  and  upon  the  same  after 
noon  an  Irish  girl  came  to  the  house  to  obtain  the 
place  in  the  kitchen.  The  judge  was  sitting  upon 
the  front  porch  at  the  time  reading  a  newspaper;  and 
when  the  girl  entered  the  gate  of  the  yard,  he  mis 
took  her  for  a  school-mistress,  and  he  said  to  her, 

"  Did  you  come  about  that  place  ?" 

"  Yes,  sor,"  she  answered. 

"  Oh,  very  well,  then ;  take  a  seat  and  I'll  run  over 
a  few  things  in  order  to  ascertain  what  your  qualifi 
cations  are.  Bound  Africa." 

62 


SOME  EDUCATIONAL  FACTS.  63 

"  If  you  please,  sor,  I  don't  know  what  you  mean." 

"  I  say,  bound  Africa."     ^ 

"  Bou — bou —  Begorra,  I  don't  know  what  ye're 
referrin'  to." 

"  Very  strange,"  said  the  judge.  "  Can  you  tell  me 
if  '  amphibious '  is  an  adverb  or  a  preposition  ?  What 
is  an  adverb  ?" 

"  Indade,  and  ye  bother  me  intirely.  I  never  had 
anything  to  do  wid  such  things  at  my  last  place." 

"  Then  it  must  have  been  a  curious  sort  of  an  in 
stitution,"  said  the  judge.  "  Probably  you  can  tell 
me  how  to  conjugate  the  verb  'to  be,'  and  just  men 
tion,  also,  what  you  know  about  Herodotus." 

"Ah,  yer  Honor's  jokin'  wid  me.  Be  done  wid 
yer  fun,  now." 

"  Did  you  ever  hear  of  Herodotus  ?" 

"  Never  once  in  the  whole  coorse  of  my  life.  Do 
you  make  it  with  eggs  ?" 

"This  is  the  most  extraordinary  woman  I  ever 
encountered,"  murmured  the  judge.  "  How  she 
ever  associated  Herodotus  with  the  idea  of  eggs  is 
simply  incomprehensible.  Well,  can  you  name  the 
hemisphere  in  which  China  and  Japan  are  situated  ?" 

"  Don't  bother  me  wid  yer  fun,  now.  I  can  wash 
the  china  and  the  pans  as  well  as  anybody,  and  that's 
enough,  now,  isn't  it  ?" 

"  Dumb  !  awful  dumb !  Don't  know  the  country 
from  the  crockery.  I'll  try  her  once  more.  Name 
the  limits  of  the  Tropic  of  Capricorn,  and  tell  me 
where  Asia  Minor  is  located." 


64  ELBOW-ROOM. 

"I  have  a  brother  that's  one,  sor;  that's  all  I 
know  about  it."  0 

"  One  ?     One  what  ?" 

"  Didn't  ye  ask  me  afther  the  miners,  sor  ?  My 
brother  Teddy  works  wid  'em." 

"And  this,"  said  the  judge,  "  is  the  kind  of  person 
to  whom  we  are  asked  to  entrust  the  education  of 
youth.  Woman,  what  do  you  know?  What  kind 
of  a  school  have  you  been  teaching  ?" 

"  None,  sor.     What  should  I  teach  school  for  ?" 

"  Totally  without  experience,  as  I  supposed,"  said 
the  judge. 

"  Mrs.  Ferguson  had  a  governess  teach  the  chil 
dren  when  I  was  cookin'  for  her." 

"  Cooking  !  Ain't  you  a  school-teacher  ?  What 
do  you  mean  by  proposing  to  stop  cooking  in  order 
to  teach  school  ?  Why,  it's  preposterous." 

"  Begorra,  I  came  here  to  get  the  cook's  place,  sor, 
and  that's  all  of  it." 

"  Oh,  by  George  !     I  see  now.     You  ain't  a  can- ' 
didate  for  the  grammar  school,  after  all.     You  want 
to  see   Mrs.  Twiddler.     Maria,  come  down  here  a 
minute.      There's   a   thick-headed   immigrant   here 
wants  to  cook  for  you." 

And  the  judge  picked  up  his  paper  and  resumed 
the  editorial  on  "  The  Impending  Crisis." 

They  obtained  a  good  teacher,  however,  and  the 
course  of  affairs  in  the  girls'  department  was  smooth 
enough;  but  just  after  the  opening  of  the  fall  ses 
sion  there  was  some  trouble  in  the  boys'  department. 


SOME  EDUCATIONAL  FACTS.  65 

Mr.  Barnes,  the  master,  read  in  the  Educational 
Monthly  that  boys  could  be  taught  history  better 
than  in  any  other  way  by  letting  each  boy  in  the 
class  represent  some  historical  character,  and  relate 
the  acts  of  that  character  as  if  he  had  done  them 
himself.  This  struck  Barnes  as  a  mighty  good  idea, 
and  he  resolved  to  put  it  in  practice.  The  school 
had  then  progressed  so  far  in  its  study  of  the  history 
of  Rome  as  the  Punic  wars,  and  Mr.  Barnes  imme 
diately  divided  the  boys  into  two  parties,  one  Ro 
mans  and  the  other  Carthaginians,  and  certain  of  the 
boys  were  named  after  the  leaders  upon  both  sides. 
All  the  boys  thought  it  was  a  fine  thing,  and  Barnes 
noticed  that  they  were  so  anxious  to  get  to  the  his 
tory  lesson  that  they  could  hardly  say  their  other 
lessons  properly. 

When  the  time  came,  Barnes  ranged  the  Romans 
upon  one  side  of  the  room  and  the  Carthaginians  on 
the  other.  The  recitation  was  very  spirited,  each 
party  telling  about  its  deeds  with  extraordinary  unc 
tion.  After  a  while  Barnes  asked  a  Roman  to  de 
scribe  the  battle  of  Cannae.  Whereupon  the  Romans 
hurled  their  copies  of  Wayland's  Moral  Science  at 
the  enemy.  Then  the  Carthaginians  made  a  batter 
ing-ram  out  of  a  bench  and  jammed  it  among  the 
Romans,  who  retaliated  with  a  volley  of  books,  slates 
and  chewed  paper-balls.  Barnes  concluded  that  the 
battle  of  Cannae  had  been  sufficiently  illustrated,  and 
he  tried  to  stop  it ;  but  the  warriors  considered  it  too 
good  a  thing  to  let  drop,  and  accordingly  the  Car- 


66  ELBOW-ROOM. 

thaginians  dashed  over  to  the  Romans  with  another 
battering-ram  and  thumped  a  couple  of  them  sav 
agely. 

Then  the  Romans  turned  in,  and  the  fight  became 
general.  A  Carthaginian  would  grasp  a  Roman  by 
the  hair  and  hustle  him  around  over  the  desk  in  a 
manner  that  was  simply  frightful,  and  a  Roman  would 
give  a  fiendish  whoop  and  knock  a  Carthaginian  over 
the  head  with  Greenleaf  's  Arithmetic.  Hannibal  got 
the  head  of  Scipio  Africanus  under  his  arm,  and 
Scipio,  in  his  efforts  to  break  away,  stumbled,  and 
the  two  generals  fell  and  had  a  rough-and-tumble 
fight  under  the  blackboard.  Caius  Gracchus  prod 
ded  Hamilcar  with  a  ruler,  and  the  latter  in  his 
struggles  to  get  loose  fell  against  the  stove  and 
knocked  down  about  thirty  feet  of  stove-pipe. 
Thereupon  the  Romans  made  a  grand  rally,  and  in 
five  minutes  they  chased  the  entire  Carthaginian 
army  out  of  the  school-room,  and  Barnes  along  with 
it;  and  then  they  locked  the  door  and  began  to  hunt 
up  the  apples  and  lunch  in  the  desks  of  the  enemy. 

After  consuming  the  supplies  they  went  to  the 
windows  and  made  disagreeable  remarks  to  the  Car 
thaginians,  who  were  standing  in  the  yard,  and  dared 
old  Barnes  to  bring  the  foe  once  more  into  battle 
array.  Then  Barnes  went  for  a  policeman ;  and  when 
he  knocked  at  the  door,  it  was  opened,  and  all  the 
Romans  were  found  busy  studying  their  lessons. 
When  Barnes  came  in  with  the  defeated  troops  he 
went  for  Scipio  Africanus;  and  pulling  him  out  of  his 


A,. 


SOME  EDUCATIONAL  FACTS.  69 

seat  by  the  ear,  he  thrashed  that  great  military  genius 
with  a  rattan  until  Scipio  began  to  cry,  whereupon 
Barnes  dropped  him  and  began  to  paddle  Caius 
Gracchus.  Then  things  settled  down  in  the  old  way, 
and  next  morning  Barnes  announced  that  history  in 
the  future  would  be  studied  as  it  always  had  been ; 
and  he  wrote  a  note  to  the  Educational  Monthly  to 
say  that  in  his  opinion  the  man  who  suggested  the 
new  system  ought  to  be  led  out  and  shot.  The  boys 
do  not  now  take  as  much  interest  in  Roman  history 
as  they  did  on  that  day. 

The  young  tragedian  who  represented  Scipio  Af- 
ricanus  is  named  Smith.  His  family  came  to  the 
village  to  live  only  a  few  weeks  before  the  school 
opened.  Scipio  is  a  very  enterprising  and  ingenious 
lad.  Colonel  Coffin's  boy  leaned  over  the  fence  one 
day  and  gave  to  me  his  impressions  of  Scipio,  a  lad 
about  fourteen  years  old  : 

"  Yes,  me  and  him  are  right  well  acquainted  now ; 
he  knows  more'n  I  do,  and  he's  had  more  expe 
rience.  Bill  says  his  father  used  to  be  a  robber 
(Smith,  by  the  way,  is  a  deacon  in  the  Presbyterian 
church,  and  a  very  excellent  lawyer),  and  that  he 
has  ten  million  dollars  in  gold  buried  in  his  cellar, 
along  with  a  whole  lot  of  human  bones — people  he's 
killed.  And  he  says  his  father  is  a  conjurer,  and 
that  he  makes  all  the  earthquakes  that  happen  any 
wheres  in  the  world.  The  old  man'll  come  home  at 
night,  after  there's  been  an  earthquake,  all  covered 


70  ELBOW-ROOM. 

with  perspiration  and  so  tired  he  kin  hardly  stand. 
Bill  says  it's  such  hard  work. 

"And  Bill  tole  me  that  once  when  a  man  came 
around  there  trying  to  sell  lightning-rods  his  father 
got  mad  and  et  him — et  him  right  up;  and  he  takes 
bites  out  of  everybody  he  comes  acrost. 

"That's  what  Bill  tells  me.  That's  all  I  know 
about  it.  And  he  tole  me  that  once  he  used  to  have 
a  dog — one  of  these  little  kind  of  dogs — and  he  was 
flying  his  kite,  and  just  for  fun  he  tied  the  kite-string 
onto  his  dog's  tail.  And  then  the  wind  struck  her 
and  his  dog  went  a-scuddin'  down  the  street  with  his 
hind  legs  in  the  air  for  about  a  mile,  when  the  kite 
all  of  a  sudden  begun  to  go  up,  and  in  about  a 
minute  the  dog  was  fifteen  miles  high  and  com 
manding  a  view  of  California  and  Egypt,  I  think 
Bill  said.  He  came  down,  anyhow,  I  know,  in  Brazil, 
and  Bill  said  he  swum  home  all  the  way  in  the  At 
lantic  Ocean ;  and  when  he  landed,  his  legs  were  all 
nibbled  off  by  sharks. 

"  I  wish  father'd  buy  me  a  dog,  so's  I  could  send 
him  up  that  way.  But  I  never  have  any  luck.  Bill 
said  that  where  they  used  to  live  he  went  out  on  the 
roof  one  day  to  fly  his  kite,  and  he  sat  on  top  of  the 
chimbly  to  give  her  plenty  of  room,  and  while  he 
was  sitting  there  thinking  about  nothing,  the  old 
man  put  a  keg  of  powder  down  below  in  the  fire 
place  to  clean  the  soot  out  of  the  chimbly.  And 
when  he  touched  her  off,  Bill  was  blowed  over  agin 
the  Baptist  church  steeple,  and  he  landed  on  the 


SOME  EDUCATIONAL  FACTS.  fl 

weather-cock  with  his  pants  torn,  and  they  couldn't 
git  him  down  for  three  days,  so  he  hung  there,  going 
round  and  round  with  the  wind,  and  he  lived  by  eat 
ing  the  crows  that  came  and  sat  on  him,  because 
they  thought  he  was  made  of  sheet-iron  and  put  up 
there  on  purpose* 

"  He's  had  more  fun  than  enough.  He  was  tell 
ing  me  the  other  day  about  a  sausage-stuffer  his 
brother  invented.  It  was  a  kinder  machine  that 
worked  with  a  treadle ;  and'  Bill  said  the  way  they 
did  in  the  fall  was  to  fix  it  on  the  hog's  back,  and 
connect  the  treadle  with  a  string,  and  then  the  hog'd 
work  the  treadle  and  keep  on  running  it  up  and 
down  until  the  machine  cut  the  hog  all  up  fine  and 
shoved  the  meat  into  the  skins.  Bill  said  his  brother 
called  it '  Every  Hog  His  Own  Stuffer,'  and  it  worked 
splendid.  But  I  do'  know.  Tears  to  me  'sif  there 
couldn't  be  no  machine  like  that.  But  anyway,  Bill 
said  so. 

"And  he  told  me  about  an  uncle  of  his  out  in 
Australia  who  was  et  by  a  big  oyster  once ;  and  when 
he  got  inside,  he  stayed  there  until  he'd  et  the  oyster. 
Then  he  split  the  shell  open  and  took  half  a  one 
for  a  boat,  and  he  sailed  along  until  he  met  a  sea- 
serpent,  arid  he  killed  it  and  drawed  off  its  skin,  and 
when  he  got  home  he  sold  it  to  an  engine  company 
for  a  hose,  for  forty  thousand  dollars,  to  put  out  fires 
with.  Bill  said  that  was  actually  so,  because  he 
could  show  me  a  man  who  used  to  belong  to  the 
engine  company.  I  wish  father'd  let  me  go  out  to 


72  ELBOW-ROOM. 

find  a  sea-serpent  like  that ;  but  he  don't  let  me  have 
a  chance  to  distinguish  myself. 

"  Bill  was  saying  only  yesterday  that  the  Indians 
caught  him  once  and  drove  eleven  railroad  spikes 
through  his  stomach  and  cut  off  his  scalp,  and  it 
never  hurt  him  a  bit.  He  said  he  got  away  by  the 
daughter  of  the  chief  sneaking  him  out  of  the  wig 
wam  and  lending  him  a  horse.  Bill  says  she  was 
in  love  with  him ;  and  when  I  asked  him  to  let  me 
see  the  hole's  where  they  drove  in  the  spikes,  he 
said  he  daresn't  take  off  his  clothes  or  he'd  bleed 
to  death.  He  said  his  own  father  didn't  know  it, 
because  Bill  was  afraid  it  might  worry  the  old 
man. 

"And  Bill  tole  me  they  wasn't  going  to  get  him 
to  go  to  Sunday-school.  He  says  his  father  has  a 
brass  idol  that  he  keeps  in  the  garret,  and  Bill  says 
he's  made  up  his  mind  to  be  a  pagan,  and  to  begin 
to  go  naked,  and  carry  a  tomahawk  and  a  bow  and 
arrow,  as  soon  as  the  warm  weather  comes.  And  to 
prove  it  to  me,  he  says  his  father  has  this  town  all 
underlaid  with  nitro-glycerine,  and  as  soon  as, he 
gets  ready  he's  going  to  blow  the  old  thing  out,  and 
bust  her  up,  let  her  rip,  and  demolish  her.  He  said 
so  down  at  the  dam,  and  tole  me  not  to  tell  anybody, 
but  I  thought  they'd  be  no  harm  in  mentioning  it  to 
you. 

"And  now  I  believe  I  must  be  going.  I  hear 
Bill  a-whistling.  Maybe  he's  got  something  else  to 
tell  me." 


SOME  EDUCATIONAL  FACTS.  73 

The  Smith  boy  will  be  profitable  to  the  youth  of 
the  community. 

Barnes,  the  pedagogue,  is  a  worthy  man  who  has 
seen  trouble.  Precisely  what  was  the  nature  of  the 
afflictions  which  had  filled  his  face  with  furrows  and 
given  him  the  air  of  one  who  has  been  overburdened 
with  sorrows  was  not  revealed  until  Mr.  Keyser  told 
the  story  one  evening  at  the  grocery-store.  Whether 
his  narrative  is  strictly  true  or  not  is  uncertain. 
There  is  a  bare  possibility  that  Mr.  Keyser  may 
have  exaggerated  grossly  a  very  simple  fact. 

"  Nobody  ever  knew  how  it  got  in  there,"  said 
Mr.  Keyser,  clasping  his  hands  over  his  knee  and 
spitting  into  the  stove.  "Some  thought  Barnes 
must've  swallowed  a  tadpole  while  drinking  out  of  a 
spring  and  it  subsequently  grew  inside  him,  while 
others  allowed  that  maybe  he'd  accidentally  eaten 
frogs'  eggs  some  time  and  they'd  hatched  out.  But 
anyway,  he  had  that  frog  down  there  inside  of  him 
settled  and  permanent  and  perfectly  satisfied  with 
being  in  out  of  the  rain.  It  used  to  worry  Barnes 
more'n  a  little,  and  he  tried  various  things  to  git  rid 
of  it.  The  doctors  they  give  him  sickening  stuff, 
and  over  and  over  agin  emptied  him ;  and  then 
they'd  hold  him  by  the  heels  and  shake  him  over  a 
basin,  and  they'd  bait  a  hook  with  a  fly  and  fish 
down  his  throat  hour  after  hour,  but  that  frog  was 
too  intelligent.  He  never  even  gave  them  a  nibble ; 
and  when  they'd  try  to  fetch  him  with  an  emetic, 


74  ELBOW-ROOM. 

he'd  dig  his  claws  into  Barnes's  membranes  and 
hold  on  until  the  storm  was  over. 

"  Not  that  Barnes  minded  the  frog  merely  being 
in  there  if  he'd  only  a  kept  quiet.  But  he  was  too 
vociferous — "that's  what  Barnes  said  to  me.  A  taci 
turn  frog  he  wouldn't  have  cared  about  so  much. 
But  how  would  you  like  to  have  one  down  inside  of 
you  there  a-whooping  every  now  and  then  in  the 
most  ridiculous  manner  ?  Maybe,  for  instance, 
Barnes'd  be  out  taking  tea  with  a  friend,  and  just 
when  everybody  else  was  quiet  it'd  suddenly  occur 
to  his  frog  to  tune  up,  and  the  next  minute  you'd 
hear  something  go  '  Blo-o-o-ood^a-noun !  Blo-oo- 
oo-'ood-a-noun  !'  two  or  three  times,  apparently  under 
the  table.  Then  the  folks  would  ask  if  there  was  an 
aquarium  in  the  house  or  if  the  man  had  a  frog- 
pond  in  the  cellar,  and  Barnes'd  get  as  red  as  fire 
and  jump  up  and  go  home, 

"  And  often  when  he'd  be  setting  in  church,  per 
haps  in  the  most  solemn  part  of  the  sermon,  he'd 
feel  something  give  two  or  three  quick  kinder  jerks 
under  his  vest,  and  presently  that  reptile  would  bawl 
right  out  in  the  meeting  '  Bloo-oo-oo-ood-a-noun ! 
Bloo-oo-oo-ood-a-nou-ou-oun !'  and  keep  it  up  until 
the  sexton  would  come  along  and  run  out  two  or 
three  boys  for  profaning  the  sanctuary.  And  at  last 
he'd  fix  it  on  poor  old  Barnes,  and  then  tell  him  that 
if  he  wanted  to  practice  ventriloquism  he'd  better 
wait  till  after  church.  And  then  the  frog'd  give  six 
or  seven  more  hollers,  so  that  the  minister  would 


SOME  EDUCATIONAL  FACTS.  J$ 

stop  and  look  at  Barnes,  and  Barnes'd  get  up  and 
skip  down  the  aisle  and  go  home  furious  about  it. 

"  It  had  a  deep  voice  for  art  ordinary  frog — betwixt 
a  French  horn  and  a  bark-mill.  And  Mrs.  Barnes 
told  me  herself  that  often,  when  John'd  get  comfort 
ably  fixed  in  bed  and  just  dropping  off  into  a  nap, 
the  frog'd  think  it  was  a  convenient  time  for  some 
music ;  and  after  hopping  about  a  bit,  it'd  all  at  once 
grind  out  three  or  four  awful  '  Bloo-oo-ood-a-nouns' 
and  wake  Mrs,  Barnes  and  the  baby,  and  start  things 
up  generally  all  around  the  house.  And— would  you 
believe  it  ?— if  that  frog  felt,  maybe,  a  little  frisky,  or 
p'raps  had  some  tune  running  through  its  head,  it'd 
keep  on  that  way  for  hours,  It  worried  Barnes  like 
thunder. 

"  I  dunno  whether  it  was  that  that  killed  his  wife 
or  not ;  but  anyhow,  when  she  died,  Barnes  wanted  to 
marry  agin,  and  he  went  for  a  while  to  see  Miss 
Flickers,  who  lives  out  yer  on  the  river  road,  you 
know.  He  courted  her  pretty  steady  for  a  while,  and 
we  all  thought  there  was  goin'  to  be  a  consolidation. 
But  she  was  telling  my  wife  that  one  evening  Barnes 
had  just  taken  hold  of  her  hand  and  told  her  he 
loved  her,  when  all  of  a  sudden  something  said, 
'  Bloo-oo-oo-ood-a-nou-ou-oun !' 

"'What  on  earth's  that?'  asked  Miss  Flickers, 
looking  sorter  scared. 

"  '  I  dunno/  said  Barnes  ;  '  it  sounds  like  somebody 
making  a  noise  in  the  cellar.'  Lied,  of  course,  for 
he  knew  mighty  well  what  it  was. 


FLBOW-ROOM. 


" '  Tears  to  me  'sif  it  was  under  the  sofa/  says 
she. 

"  *  Maybe  it  wasn't  anything,  after  all/  says  Barnes, 
when  just  then  the  frog,  he  feels  like  running  up  the 
scales  again,  and  he  yells  out,  '  Bloo-oo-ood-a-nou- 
ou-ou-oun!' 

"'Upon  my  word/  says  Miss  Flickers,  'I  believe 
you've  got  a  frog  in  your  pocket,  Mr.  Barnes ;  now, 
haven't  you  ?' 

"  Then  he  gets  down  on  his  knees  and  owns  up  to 
the  truth,  and  swears  he'll  do  his  best  to  git  rid  of 


SOME  EDUCATIONAL  FACTS.  TJ 

the  frog,  and  all  the  time  he  is  talking  the  frog  is 
singing  exercises  and  scales  and  oratorios  inside  of 
him,  and  worse  than  ever,  too,  because  Barnes  drank 
a  good  deal  of  ice-water  that  day,  and  it  made  the 
frog  hoarse — ketched  cold,  you  know. 

"  But  Miss  Flickers,  she  refused  him.  Said  she 
might've  loved  him,  only  she  couldn't  marry  any 
man  that  had  continual  music  in  his  interior. 

"  So  Barnes,  he  was  the  most  disgusted  man  you 
ever  saw.  Perfectly  sick  about  it.  And  one  day  he 
was  lying  on  the  bed  gaping,  and  that  frog  unexpect 
edly  made  up  its  mind  to  come  up  to  ask  Barnes  to 
eat  more  carefully,  maybe,  and  it  jumped  out  on  the 
counterpane.  After  looking  about  a  bit  it  came  up 
and  tried  three  or  four  times  to  hop  back,  but  he 
kept  his  mouth  shut,  and  killed  the  frog  with  the 
back  of  a  hair-brush.  Ever  since  then  he  runs  his 
drinking-water  through  a  strainer,  and  he  hates 
frogs  worse  than  you  and  me  hate  pison.  Now, 
that's  the  honest  truth  about  Barnes ;  you  ask  him 
if  it  ain't." 

Then  Keyser  bought  some  tobacco  and  went 
home. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

THE  EDITOR  OF  THE  PATRIOT. 

|HE  editor  of  the  village  paper,  The  Patriot 
and  Advertiser,  is  Major  Slott ;  and  a  very 
clever  journalist  he  is.  Even  his  bitterest 
adversary,  the  editor  of  The  Evening  Mail, 
in  the  town  above  us  on  the  river,  admits  that.  In 
the  last  political  campaign,  indeed,  The  Mail  un 
dertook  to  tell  how  it  was  that  the  major  acquired 
such  a  taste  for  journalism.  The  story  was  that 
shortly  after  he  was  born  the  doctor  ordered  that  the 
baby  should  be  fed  upon  goat's  milk.  This  was  pro 
cured  from  a  goat  that  was  owned  by  an  Irish  woman 
who  lived  in  the  rear  of  the  office  of  The  Weekly 
Startler  and  fed  her  goat  chiefly  upon  the  exchanges 
which  came  to  that  journal.  The  consequence,  ac 
cording  to  The  Mail,  was  that  young  Slott  was  fed 
entirely  upon  milk  formed  from  digested  newspapers; 
and  he  throve  on  it,  although  when  the  Irish  woman 
mixed  the  Democratic  journals  carelessly  with  the 
Whig  papers  they  disagreed  after  they  were  eaten, 
and  the  milk  gave  the  baby  colic.  Old  Slott  intend 
ed  the  boy  to  be  a  minister ;  but  as  soon  as  he  was 
old  enough  to  take  notice  he  cried  for  every  news- 

78 


THE   EDITOR    OF  THE  PATRIOT.  79 

paper  that  he  happened  to  see,  and  no  sooner  did  he 
learn  how  to  write  than  he  began  to  slash  off  edito 
rials  upon  "  The  Need  of  Reform,"  etc.  He  ran 
away  from  school  four  times  to  enter  a  newspaper 
office,  and  finally,  when  the  paternal  Slott  put  him  in 
the  House  of  Refuge,  he  started  a  weekly  in  there, 
and  called  it  the  House  of  Refuge  Record;  and  one 
day  he  slid  over  the  wall  and  went  down  to  the  Era 
office,  where  he  changed  his  name  to  Blott,  and  be 
gan  his  career  on  that  paper  with  an  article  on  "  Our 
Reformatory  Institutions  for  the  Young."  Then  old 
Slott  surrendered  to  what  seemed  to  be  a  combina 
tion  of  manifest  destiny  and  goat's  milk,  and  permit 
ted  him  to  pursue  his  profession.  The  major,  The 
Mail  alleges,  has  the  instinct  so  strong  that  if  he 
should  fall  into  the  crater  of  Vesuvius  his  first 
thought  on  striking  bottom  would  be  to  write  to 
somebody  to  ask  for  a  free  pass  to  come  out  with. 
"  But,"  continued  The  Mail,  "  you  would  hardly  be 
lieve  this  story  if  you  ever  read  The  Patriot.  We 
often  suspect,  when  we  are  looking  over  that  sheet, 
that  the  nurse  used  to  mix  the  goat's  milk  with  an 
unfair  proportion  of  water." 

The  major  has  a  weekly  edition  in  which  he  pub 
lishes  serial  stories  of  a  stirring  character,  and  he  is 
always  looking  out  for  good  ones.  Recently  a  tale 
was  submitted  by  a  certain  Mr.  Stack,  a  young  man 
who  had  high  ambition  without  much  experience  as 
a  writer  of  fiction,  After  waiting  a  long  while  and 
hearing  nothing  about  the  story,  Mr.  Stack  concluded 


80  ELBOW-ROOM. 

to  call  upon  the  major  in  order  to  ascertain  why  that 
narrative  had  not  attracted  attention.  When  Stack 
mentioned  his  errand,  the  major  reached  for  the  man 
uscript  ;  and  looking  very  solemn,  he  said, 

"  Mr.  Stack,  I  don't  think  I  can  accept  this  story. 
In  some  respects  it  is  really  wonderful ;  but  I  am 
afraid  that  if  I  published  it,  it  would  attract  almost  too 
much  attention.  People  would  get  too  wild  over  it. 
We  have  to  be  careful.  For  instance,  here  in  the 
first  chapter  you  mention  the  death  of  Mrs.  McGin- 
nis,  the  hero's  mother.  She  dies ;  you  inter  Mrs. 
McGinnis  in  the  cemetery;  you  give  an  affecting 
scene  at  the  funeral ;  you  run  up  a  monument  over 
her  and  plant  honeysuckle  upon  her  grave.  You 
create  in  the  reader's  mind  a  strong  impression  that 
Mrs.  McGinnis  is  thoroughly  dead.  And  yet,  over 
here  in  the  twenty-second  chapter,  you  make  a  man 
named  Thompson  fall  in  love  with  her,  and  she  is 
married  to  him,  and  she  goes  skipping  around 
through  the  rest  of  the  story  as  lively  as  a  grass 
hopper,  and  you  all  the  time  alluding  to  Thompson 
as  her  second  husband.  You  see  that  kind  of  thing 
won't  do.  It  excites  remark.  Readers  complain 
about  it." 

"  You  don't  say  I  did  that  ?  Well,  now,  do  you 
know  I  was  thinking  all  the  time  that  it  was  Mr. 
McGinnis  that  I  buried  in  the  first  chapter  ?  I  must 
have  got  them  mixed  up  somehow." 

"And  then,"  continued  the  major,  "when  you 
introduce  the  hero,  you  mention  that  he  has  but  one 


THE  EDITOP   OF  THE  PATRIOT.  8 1 

arm,  having  lost  the  other  in  battle.  But  in  chapter 
twelve  you  run  him  through  a  saw-mill  by  an  acci 
dent,  and  you  mention  that  he  lost  an  arm  there,  too. 
And  yet  in  the  nineteenth  chapter  you  say,  '  Adolph 
rushed  up  to  Mary,  threw  his  arms  about  her,  and 
clasped  her  to  his  bosom  ;'  and  then  you  go  on  to 
relate  how  he  sat  down  at  the  piano  in  the  soft 
moonlight  and  played  one  of  Beethoven's  sonatas 
'with  sweet  poetic  fervor.'  Now,  the  thing,  you 
see,  don't  dovetail.  Adolph  couldn't  possibly  throw 
his  arms  around  Mary  if  one  was  buried  in  the  field 
of  battle  and  the  other  was  minced  up  in  a  saw-mill, 
and  he  couldn't  clasp  her  to  his  bosom  unless  he 
threw  a  lasso  with  his  teeth  and  hauled  her  in  by 
swallowing  the  slack  of  the  rope.  As  for  the  piano — 
well,  you  know  as  well  as  I  do  that  an  armless  man 
can't  play  a  Beethoven  sonata  unless  he  knows  how 
to  perform  on  the  instrument  with  his  nose,  and  in 
that  case  you  insult  the  popular  intelligence  when 
you  talk  about  '  sweet  poetic  fervor.'  I  have  my 
fingers  on  the  public  pulse,  and  I  know  they  won't 
stand  it." 

"Well,  well,"  said  Stack,  "I  don't  know  how  I 
ever  came  to — " 

"  Let  me  direct  your  attention  to  another  incendi 
ary  matter,"  interrupted  the  major.  "  In  the  first 
love-scene  between  Adolph  and — and — let  me  see — 
what's  her  name  ? — Mary — you  say  that  '  her  liquid 
blue  eye  rested  softly  upon  him  as  he  poured  forth 
the  story  of  his  love,  and  its  azure  was  dimmed  by 


82  ELBOW-ROOM. 

a  flood  of  happy  tears.'  Well,  sir,  about  twenty 
pages  farther  on,  where  the  villain  insults  her,  you 
observe  that  her  black  eyes  flashed  lightning  at  him 
and  seemed  to  scorch  him  where  he  stood.  Now, 
let  me  direct  attention  to  the  fact  that  if  the  girl's 
eyes  were  blue  they  couldn't  be  black ;  and  if  you 
mean  to  convey  the  impression  that  she  had  one 
blue  eye  and  one  black  eye,  and  that  she  only  looked 
softly  at  Adolph  out  of  the  off  eye,  while  the  near 
eye  roamed  around,  not  doing  anything  in  particular, 
why,  she  is  too  phenomenal  for  a  novel,  and  only 
suitable  for  a  place  in  the  menagerie  by  the  side  of 
the  curiosities.  And  then  you  say  that  although 
her  eye  was  liquid  yet  it  scorched  the  villain.  Peo 
ple  won't  put  up  with  that  kind  of  thing.  It  makes 
them  delirious  and  murderous." 

"Too  bad!"  said  Stack.  "I  forgot  what  I'd  said 
about  her  eyes  when  I  wrote  that  scene  with  the 
villain." 

"  And  here,  in  the  twentieth  chapter,  you  say  that 
Magruder  was  stabbed  with  a  bowie-knife  in  the 
hands  of  the  Spaniard,  and  in  the  next  chapter 
you  give  an  account  of  the  post-mortem  examination, 
and  make  the  doctors  hunt  for  the  bullet  and  find  it 
embedded  in  his  liver.  Even  patient  readers  can't 
remain  calm  under  such  circumstances.  They  lose 
control  of  themselves." 

"  It's  unfortunate,"  said  Stack. 

"  Now,  the  way  you  manage  the  Browns  in  the 
story  is  also  exasperating.  First  you  represent  Mrs. 


THE  EDITOR    OF  THE  PATRIOT.  83 

Brown  as  taking  her  twins  around  to  church  to  be 
christened.  In  the  middle  of  the  book  you  make 
Mrs.  Brown  lament  that  she  never  had  any  children, 
and  you  wind  up  the  story  by  bringing  in  Mrs. 
Brown  with  her  grandson  in  her  arms  just  after  hav 
ing  caused  Mr.  Brown  to  state  to  the  clergyman  that 
the  only  child  he  ever  had  died  in  his  fourth  year. 
Just  think  of  the  effect  of  such  a  thing  on  the  public 
mind  !  Why,  this  story  would  fill  all  the  insane  asy 
lums  in  the  country." 

"  Those  Browns  don't  seem  to  be  very  definite, 
somehow,"  said  Stack,  thoughtfully. 

"  Worst  of  all,"  said  major,  "  in  chapter  thirty-one 
you  make  the  lovers  resolve  upon  suicide,  and  you 
put  them  in  a  boat  and  drift  them  over  Niagara  Falls. 
Twelve  chapters  farther  on  you  suddenly  introduce 
them  walking  in  the  twilight  in  a  leafy  lane,  and 
although  afterward  she  goes  into  a  nunnery  and  takes 
the  black  veil  because  he  has  been  killed  by  pirates 
in  the  Spanish  West  Indies,  in  the  next  chapter  to 
the  last  you  have  a  scene  where  she  goes  to  a  sur 
prise-party  at  the  Presbyterian  minister's  and  finds 
him  there  making  arrangements  for  the  wedding  as 
if  nothing  had  ever  happened ;  and  then,  after  you 
disclose  the  fact  that  she  was  a  boy  in  disguise,  and 
not  a  woman  at  all,  you  marry  them  to  each  other, 
and  represent  the  boy  heroine  as  giving  her  blessing 
to  her  daughter.  Oh,  it's  awful — awful !  It  won't 
do.  It  really  won't.  You'd  better  go  into  some 
other  kind  of  business,  Mr.  Stack." 


84  ELBOW-ROOM. 

Then  Stack  took  his  manuscript  and  went  home 
to  fix  it  up  so  as  to  make  the  story  run  together 
better.  The  Patriot  will  not  publish  it  even  if  Stack 
reconstructs  it. 

Major  Slott,  like  most  other  editors,  is  continually 
persecuted  by  bores,  but  recently  he  was  the  victim 
of  a  peculiarly  dastardly  attack  from  a  person  of 
this  class.  While  he  was  sitting  in  the  office  of  the 
Patriot,  writing  an  editorial  about  "  Our  Grinding 
Monopolies,"  he  suddenly  became  conscious  of  the 
presence  of  a  fearful  smell.  He  stopped,  snuffed  the 
air  two  or  three  times,  and  at  last  lighted  a  cigar  to 
fumigate  the  room.  Then  he  heard  footsteps  upon 
the  stairs,  and  as  they  drew  nearer  the  smell  grew 
stronger.  When  it  had  reached  a  degree  of  inten 
sity  that  caused  the  major  to  fear  that  it  might 
break  some  of  the  furniture,  there  was  a  knock  at 
the  door.  Then  a  man  entered  with  a  bundle  under 
his  arm,  and  as  he  did  so  the  major  thought  that  he 
had  never  smelt  such  a  fiendish  smell  in  the  whole 
course  of  his  life.  He  held  his  nose ;  and  when  the 
man  saw  the  gesture,  he  said, 

"  I  thought  so ;  the  usual  effect.  You  hold  it 
tight  while  I  explain." 

"What  hab  you  god  id  that  buddle ?"  asked  the 
major. 

"  That,  sir,"  said  the  man,  "  is  Barker's  Carbolic 
Disinfecting  Door-mat.  I  am  Barker,  and  this  is 
the  mat.  I  invented  it,  and  it's  a  big  thing." 


THE  EDITOR    OF  THE  PATRIOT.  85 

"  Is  id  thad  thad  smells  so  thudderig  bad  ?"  asked 
the  major,  with  his  nostrils  tightly  shut. 

"  Yes,  sir ;  smells  very  strong,  but  it's  a  healthy 
smell.  It's  invigorating.  It  braces  the  system.  I'll 
tell  you — " 

"  Gid  oud  with  the  blabed  thig !"  exclaimed  the 
major. 

"  I  must  tell  you  all  about  it  first.  I  called  to  ex 
plain  it  to  you.  You  see  I've  been  investigating  the 
causes  of  epidemic  diseases.  Some  scientists  think 
they  are  spread  by  molecules  in  the  air ;  others  at 
tribute  them  to  gases  generated  in  the  sewers ; 
others  hold  that  they  are  conveyed  by  contagion ; 
but  I—" 

"  Aid  you  goig  to  tague  thad  idferdal  thig  away 
frob  here  ?"  asked  the  major. 

"  But  I  have  discovered  that  these  diseases  are 
spread  by  the  agency  of  door-mats.  Do  you  under 
stand  ?  Door-mats !  And  I'll  explain  to  you  how 
it's  done.  Here's  a  man  who's  been  in  a  house 
where  there's  disease.  He  gets  it  on  his  boots. 
The  leather  is  porous,  and  it  becomes  saturated. 
He  goes  to  another  house  and  wipes  his  boots  on 
the  mat.  Now,  every  man  who  uses  that  mat  must 
get  some  of  the  stuff  on  his  boots,  and  he  spreads  it 
over  every  other  door-mat  that  he  wipes  them  on. 
Now,  don't  he  ?" 

"Why  dode  you  tague  thad  sbell  frob  udder  by 
dose  ?" 

"  Well,  then,  my  idea  is  to  construct  a  door-mat 


86 


ELBOW-ROOM. 


that  will  disinfect  those  boots.  I  do  it  by  saturating 
the  mat  with  carbolic  acid  and  drying  it  gradually. 
I  have  one  here  prepared  by  my  process.  Shall  I 
unroll  it?" 

"  If  you  do,  I'll  blow  your  braids  out !"  shouted 
the  major. 

"  Oh,  very  well,  then.  Now,  the  objection  to  this 
beautiful  invention  is  that  it  possesses  a  very  strong 
and  positive  odor." 

"  I'll  bed  it  does,"  said  the  major. 

"And  as  this  is  offensive  to  many  persons,  I  give 


to  each  purchaser  a  'nose-guard/  which  is  to  be 
worn  upon  the  nose  while  in  a  house  where  the  car 
bolic  mat  is  placed.  This  nose-guard  is  filled  with 


THE  EDITOR   OF  THE  PATRIOT.  8/ 

a  substance  which  completely  neutralizes  the  smell, 
and  it  has  only  one  disadvantage.  Now,  what  is 
that  ?" 

"  Are  you  goig  to  quid  and  led  me  breathe,  or  are 
you  goig  to  stay  here  all  day  log  ?" 

"Have  patience,  now;  I'm  coming  to  the  point. 
I  say,  what  is  that  ?  It  is  that  the  neutralizing  sub 
stance  in  the  nose-guard  evaporates  too  quickly. 
And  how  do  I  remedy  that  ?  I  give  to  every  man 
who  buys  a  mat  and  a  nose-guard  two  bottles  of 
'  neutralizes'  What  it  is  composed  of  is  a  secret. 
But  the  bottles  are  to  be  carried  in  the  pocket,  so  as 
to  be  ready  for  every  emergency.  The  disadvantage 
of  this  plan  consists  of  the  fact  that  the  neutralizer 
is  highly  explosive,  and  if  a  man  should  happen  to 
sit  down  on  a  bottle  of  it  in  his  coat-tail  pocket  sud 
denly  it  might  hist  him  through  the  roof.  But  see 
how  beautiful  my  scheme  is." 

"  Oh,  thudder  add  lightnig !  aid  you  ever  goig  to 
quid?" 

"  See  how  complete  it  is  !  By  paying  twenty  dol 
lars  additional,  every  man  who  takes  a  mat  has  his 
life  protected  in  the  Hopelessly  Mutual  Accident  In 
surance  Company,  so  that  it  really  makes  no  great 
difference  whether  he  is  busted  through  the  shingles 
or  not.  Now,  does  it  ?" 

"  Oh,  dode  ask  me.  I  dode  care  a  ced  about  id, 
adyway." 

"  Well,  then,  what  I  want  you  to  do  is  to  give  me 
a  first-rate  notice  in  your  paper,  describing  the  in- 


88  ELBOW-ROOM. 

vention,  giving  the  public  some  general  notion  of  its 
merits  and  recommending  its  adoption  into  general 
use.  You  give  me  a  half- column  puff,  and  I'll  make 
the  thing  square  by  leaving  you  one  of  the  mats,  with 
a  couple  of  bottles  of  the  neutralizer  and  a  nose- 
guard.  I'll  leave  them  now." 

"  Whad  d'you  say  ?" 

"  I  say  I'll  just  leave  you  a  mat  and  the  other 
fixings  for  you  to  look  over  at  your  leisure." 

"  You  biserable  scoundrel,  if  you  lay  wod  ob  those 
blasted  thigs  dowd  here,  I'll  burderyou  od  the  spod! 
I  wod  stad  such  foolishness."  » 

"  Won't  you  notice  it,  either?" 

"  Certaidly  nod.  I  woulded  do  id  for  ten  thousad 
dollars  a  lide." 

"  Well,  then,  let  it  alone ;  and  I  hope  one  of  those 
epidemic  diseases  will  get  you  and  lay  you  up  for 
life." 

As  Mr.  Barker  withdrew,  Major  Slott  threw  up 
the  windows,  and  after  catching  his  breath,  he  called 
down  stairs  to  a  reporter, 

"  Perkins,  follow  that  man  and  hear  what  he's  got 
to  say,  and  then  blast  him  in  a  column  of  the  awful- 
est  vituperation  you  know  how  to  write." 

Perkins  obeyed  orders,  and  now  Barker  has  a  libel 
suit  pending  against  The  Patriot,  while  the  carbolic 
mat  has  not  yet  been  introduced  to  this  market. 

Mr.  Barker  was  not  a  more  agreeable  visitor  than 
the  book-canvasser  who,  upon  the  same  day,  circu- 


THE  NATIONAL  PORTRAIT  GALLERY.        89 

lated  about  the  village.  He  came  into  my  office  with 
a  portfolio  under  his  arm.  Placing  it  upon  the  table, 
removing  a  ruined  hat,  and  wiping  his  nose  upon  a 
ragged  handkerchief  that  had  been  so  long  out  of 
wash  that  it  was  positively  gloomy,  he  said, 

"  Mister,  I'm  canvassing  for  the  National  Portrait 
Gallery;  splendid  work;  comes  in  numbers,  fifty 
cents  apiece.  Contains  pictures  of  all  the  great 
American  heroes  from  the  earliest  times  to  the  pres 
ent  day.  Everybody's  subscribing  for  it,  and  I  want 
to  see  if  I  can't  take  your  name. 

"  Now,  just  cast  your  eyes  over  that,"  he  said, 
opening  his  book  and  pointing  to  an  engraving. 
"That's — lemme  see — yes,  that's  Columbus.  Per 
haps  you've  heard  sumfin  about  him  ?  The  pub 
lisher  was  telling  me  to-day,  before  I  started  out, 
that  he  discovered —  No ;  was  it  Columbus  that  dis — 
Oh  yes !  Columbus,  he  discovered  America.  Was 
the, first  man  here.  He  came  over  in  a  ship,  the 
publisher  said,  and  it  took  fire,  and  he  stayed  on  deck 
because  his  father  told  him  to,  if  I  remember  right ; 
and  when  the  old  thing  busted  to  pieces,  he  was 
killed.  Handsome  picture,  ain't  it  ?  Taken  from  a 
photograph ;  all  of  'em  are ;  done  specially  for  this 
work.  His  clothes  are  kinder  odd,  but  they  say 
that's  the  way  they  dressed  in  those  days. 

"  Look  here  at  this  one.  Now,  isn't  that  splendid  ? 
William  Penn ;  one  of  the  early  settlers.  I  was 
reading  the  other  day  about  him ;  when  he  first  ar 
rived,  he  got  a  lot  of  Indians  up  a  tree,  and  when 


9O  ELBOW-ROOM. 

they'd  shook  some  apples  down,  he  set  one  on  top 
of  his  son's  head  and  shot  an  arrow  plumb  through 
it,  and  never  fazed  him.  They  say  it  struck  them 
Indians  cold,  he  was  such  a  terrific  shooter.  Fine 
countenance,  hasn't  he?  Face  shaved  clean;  he 
didn't  wear  a  mustache,  I  believe,  but  he  seems 
to've  let  himself  out  on  hair.  Now,  my  view  is  that 
every  man  ought  to  have  a  picture  of  that  patriarch, 
so's  to  see  how  the  first  settlers  looked  and  what 
kind  of  weskits  they  used  to  wear.  See  his  legs, 
too !  Trousers  a  little  short,  maybe,  as  if  he  was 
going  to  wade  in  a  creek ;  but  he's  all  there.  Got 
some  kind  of  a  paper  in  his  hand,  I  see.  Subscrip 
tion  list,  I  reckon. 

"  Now,  how  does  that  strike  you  ?  There's  some 
thing  nice.  That,  I  think,  is — is — that  is — a — a — 
yes,  to  be  sure,  Washington.  You  recollect  him,  of 
course.  Some  people  call  him  '  Father  of  his  Coun 
try/  George  Washington.  Had  no  middle  name,  I 
believe.  He  lived  about  two  hundred  years  ago, 
and  he  was  a  fighter.  I  heard  the  publisher  telling 
a  man  about  him  crossing  the  Delaware  River  up  yer 
at  Trenton,  and  seems  to  me,  if  I  recollect  right,  I've 
read  about  it  myself.  He  was  courting  some  girl 
on  the  Jersey  side,  and  he  used  to  swim  over  at 
nights  to  see  her,  when  the  old  man  was  asleep. 
The  girl's  family  were  down  on  him,  I  reckon.  He 
looks  like  the  man  to  do  that,  now,  don't  he  ?  He's 
got  it  in  his  eye.  If  it'd  been  me,  I'd  a  gone  over 
on  the  bridge,  but  he  probably  wanted  to  show  off 


THE  NATIONAL   PORTRAIT  GALLERY.        9 1 

before  her;  some  men  are  so  reckless.  Now,  if 
you'll  go  in  on  this  thing,  I'll  get  the  publisher  to 
write  out  some  more  stories  about  him,  and  bring 
'em  around  to  you,  so's  you  can  study  up  on  him. 
I  know  he  did  ever  so  many  other  things,  but  I've 
forgot  'em ;  .my  memory's  so  thundering  poor. 

"  Less  see  ;  who  have  we  next  ?  Ah,  Franklin  ! 
Benjamin  Franklin.  He  was  one  of  the  old  original 
pioneers,  I  think.  I  disremember  exactly  what  he 
is  celebrated  for,  but  I  believe  it  was  flying  a — oh, 
yes  !  flying  a  kite,  that's  it.  The  publisher  men 
tioned  it.  He  was  out  one  day  flying  a  kite,  you 
know,  like  boys  do  nowadays,  and  while  she  was 
flickering  up  in  the  sky,  and  he  was  giving  her  more 
string,  an  apple  fell  off  a  tree  and  hit  him  on  the 
head,  and  then  he  discovered  the  attraction  of  gravi 
tation,  I  think  they  call  it.  Smart,  wasn't  it  ?  Now, 
if  you  or  me'd  a  been  hit,  it'd  just  a  made  us  mad,  like 
as  not,  and  set  us  a-cussing.  But  men  are  so  differ 
ent.  One  man's  meat's  another  man's  pison.  See 
what  a  double  chin  he's  got.  No  beard  on  him, 
either,  though  a  goatee  would  have  been  becoming 
to  such  a  round  face.  He  hasn't  got  on  a  sword, 
and  I  reckon  he  was  no  soldier ;  fit  some  when  he 
was  a  boy,  maybe,  or  went  out  with  the  home-guard, 
but  not  a  regular  warrior.  I  ain't  one  myself,  and  I 
think  all  the  better  of  him  for  it. 

"  Ah,  here  we  are  !  Look  at  that !  Smith  and 
Pocahontas  !  John  Smith.  Isn't  that  just  gorgeous  ? 
See  how  she  kneels  over  him  and  sticks  out  her 


92  ELBOW-ROOM. 

hands  while  he  lays  on  the  ground  and  that  big 
fellow  with  a  club  tries  to  hammer  him  up.  Talk 
about  woman's  love !  There  it  is.  Modocs,  I  be 
lieve.  Anyway,  some  Indians  out  West  there  some- 
wheres ;  and  the  publisher  tells  me  that  Shacknasty, 
or  whatever  his  name  is,  there,  was  going  to  bang  old 
Smith  over  the  head  with  that  log  of  wood,  and  this 
girl  here,  she  was  sweet  on  Smith,  it  appears,  and  she 
broke  loose  and  jumped  forward,  and  says  to  the 
man  with  the  stick,  '  Why  don't  you  let  John  alone  ? 
Me  and  him  are  going  to  marry;  and  if  you  kill  him, 
I'll  never  speak  to  you  again  as  long  as  I  live/  or 
words  like  them;  and  so  the  man,  he  give  it  up,  and 
both  of  them  hunted  up  a  preacher  and  were  mar 
ried,  and  lived  happily  ever  afterward.  Beautiful 
story,  ain't  it  ?  A  good  wife  she  made  him,  too,  I 
bet,  if  she  was  a  little  copper-colored.  And  don't 
she  look  just  lovely  in  that  picture?  But  Smith 
appears  kinder  sick.  Evidently  thinks  his  goose  is 
cooked  ;  and  I  don't  wonder,  with  that  Modoc  swoop 
ing  down  on  him  with  such  a  discouraging  club. 

"  And  now  we  come  to — to — ah — to  Putnam — 
General  Putnam.  He  fought  in  the  war,  too;  and 
one  day  a  lot  of  'em  caught  him  when  he  was  off  his 
guard,  and  they  tied  him  flat  on  his  back  on  a  horse, 
and  then  licked  the  horse  like  the  very  mischief. 
And  what  does  that  horse  do  but  go  pitching  down 
about  four  hundred  stone  steps  in  front  of  the  house, 
with  General  Putnam  laying  there  nearly  skeered  to 
death.  Leastways,  the  publisher  said  somehow  that 


THE  EDITOR   OF  THE  PATRIOT.  93 

way,  and  I  oncet  read  about  it  myself.  But  he  came 
out  safe,  and  I  reckon  sold  the  horse  and  made  a 
pretty  good  thing  of  it.  What  surprises  me  is  he 
didn't  break  his  neck ;  but  maybe  it  was  a  mule,  and 
theyVe  pretty  sure-footed,  you  know.  Surprising 
what  some  of  these  men  have  gone  through,  ain't  it? 

"  Turn  over  a  couple  of  leaves.  That's  General 
Jackson.  My  father  shook  hands  with  him  once. 
He  vus  a  fighter,  I  know.  He  fit  down  in  New  Or 
leans  Broke  up  the  rebel  legislature,  and  then, 
when  the  Ku-Kluxes  got  after  him,  he  fought  'em 
behind  cotton  breastworks  and  licked  'em  till  they 
couldv  't  stand.  They  say  he  was  terrific  when  he 
got  real  mad.  Hit  straight  from  the  shoulder,  and 
fetched  his  man  every  time.  Andrew  his  first  name 
was ;  and  look  how  his  hair  stands  up !  And  then 
here's  John  Adams  and  Daniel  Boone  and  two  or 
three  pirates,  and  a  whole  lot  more  pictures,  so  you 
see  it's  cheap  as  dirt.  Lemme  have  your  name, 
won't  ycT  ?" 

"  I  behwVe  not  to-day." 

"What!  won't  go  in  on  William  Penn  and  Wash 
ington  and  Smith,  and  the  other  heroes  ?" 

"  No." 

"  Well,  well !  Hang  me  if  I'd  a-wasted  so  much 
information  on  you  if  I'd  a  knowed  you  wouldn't 
subscribe.  If  every  man  was  like  you,  it'd  break  up 
the  business." 

Then  he  wiped  his  nose  and  left.  I  hope  he  is 
doing  better  with  the  work  than  he  did  with  me. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

HOW  MR.  BUTTERWICK  PURSUED  HORTICUL 
TURE. 

|OON  after  he  moved  out  from  the  city  to 
live  in  the  village  Mr.  Butterwick  deter 
mined  to  secure  the  services  of  a  good 
gardener  who  could  be  depended  upon  to 
produce  from  the  acre  surrounding  the  house  the 
largest  possible  crop  of  fruit,  vegetables  and  flowers. 
A  man  named  Brown  was  recommended  as  an  ex 
pert,  and  Mr.  Butterwick  engaged  him.  As  Mr. 
Butterwick  has  no  acquaintance  with  the  horticul 
tural  art,  he  instructed  Brown  to  use  his  own  judg 
ment  in  fixing  up  the  place,  and  Brown  said  he 
would. 

On  the  morning  of  the  first  <iay,  while  Mr.  Butter 
wick  was  sitting  on  the  front  porch,  he  saw  Brown 
going  out  of  the  gate  with  a  gun  upon  his  shoulder, 
and  Mr.  Butterwick  conceived  the  idea  that  the  hor 
ticultural  expert  intended  to  begin  his  career  in  his 
new  place  by  taking  a  holiday. 

In  about  an  hour,  however,  Brown  came  saunter 
ing  up  the  street  dragging  a  deceased  dog  by  the 
tail.  Mr.  Butterwick  asked  him  if  he  had  accident- 

94 


MR.  BUTTERWICK' S  GARDENER.  9$ 

ally  shot  his  dog  while  aiming  at  a  rabbit.  But 
Brown  simply  smiled  significantly  and  passed  silently 
in  through  the  gate. 

Then  he  buried  the  dog  beneath  the  grape-arbor  ; 
and  when  the  funeral  was  over,  Brown  loaded  up  his 
gun,  rubbed  his  muddy  boots  upon  the  grass, 
brought  his  weapon  to  "right  shoulder  shift"  and 
sallied  out  again. 

Mr.  Butterwick  asked  him  if  he  was  going  down 
to  the  woods  after  squirrels ;  but  he  put  his  thumb 
knowingly  to  his  nose,  winked  at  Mr.  Butterwick  and 
went  mutely  down  the  road.  After  a  while  he 
loomed  up  again  upon  the  horizon,  and  this  time 
Mr.  Butterwick  noticed  that  he  was  hauling  after 
him  a  setter  pup  and  a  yellow  dog,  both  dead,  and 
yoked  together  with  one  of  Brown's  suspenders. 

Mr.  Butterwick  failed  to  comprehend  the  situation 
exactly,  but  he  ventured  the  remark  that  Brown 
must  be  a  very  poor  shot  to  hit  his  own  dogs  every 
time  instead  of  the  game.  Brown,  however,  was 
not  open  to  criticism.  He  walked  calmly  down 
the  yard,  and  after  entombing  the  dogs  by  the  grape- 
arbor,  he  put  four  fingers  of  buckshot  in  his  gun, 
rearranged  his  suspenders,  shouldered  arms  and 
struck  out  for  the  front  gate  with  a  countenance  as 
impassive  as  that  of  a  graven  image. 

Mr.  Butterwick  inquired  if  there  was  a  target- 
shooting  match  over  at  the  "  King  of  Prussia ;"  but 
Brown  didn't  appear  to  hear  him,  and  passed  serene 
ly  down  the  street.  At  half-past  eleven  Brown  came 


96 


ELBOW-ROOM. 


within  hail  again,  and 
presently  he  marched 
up  the  yard  with  three 
departed  cats  and  a  blue 
poodle. 

Mr.  Butterwick 
thought  it  was  extraor 
dinary,  and  he  asked 
Brown  if  he  was  en 
gaged  in  gunning  for 
domestic  animals  in  or 
der  to  settle  a  bet.  But 
Brown  only  coughed  a 
couple  of  times,  closed 
one  eye  sagaciously  and 
began  to  dig  a  fresh 
grave  under  the  arbor. 
When  the  last  sad  rites 
were  over,  he  charged 
his  gun  as  usual,  rubbed 
his  nose  thoughtfully 
with  his  sleeve,  took  a. 
drink  at  the  pump  and 
wandered  away. 

He  had  been  gone 
about  fifteen  minutes, 
when  Mr.  Butterwick 
heard  two'  shots  in 
quick  succession.  A 
minute  later  he  saw 


MR.  BUTTERWICK' S   GARDENER.  97 

Brown  coming  up  the  road  with  a  considerable 
amount  of  velocity,  pursued  by  Mr.  Potts  and  a 
three-legged  dog.  Brown  kept  ahead;  and  when 
he  had  shot  through  the  gate,  he  dashed  into  the 
house  and  bolted  the  door.  Then  Potts  arrived 
with  his  dog,  which  stood  by,  looking  as  if  it  were 
very  anxious  to  lunch  upon  somebody,  while  Potts 
explained  to  Butterwick  that  Brown  had  shot  a  leg 
off  of  his  dog,  and  that  he,  Potts,  intended  to  have 
satisfaction  for  the  injury,  if  he  had  to  go  to  law 
about  it. 

When  Mr.  Butterwick  had  pacified  Potts  and  sent 
him  away,  Mr.  Butterwick  sought  an  interview  with 
Brown : 

"  Brown,  you  have  been  behaving  in  a  most  pre 
posterous  manner  ever  since  you  came  here.  I  em 
ployed  you  as  a  gardener,  not  as  a  gunner.  You 
have  nearly  killed  a  valuable  animal  belonging  to 
Mr.  Potts ;  and  I'll  thank  you  to  tell  me  what  you 
mean,  and  right  off,  too." 

Brown  winked  again,  cleared  his  throat,  pulled  up 
his  shirt-collar  and  said, 

"  I  was  goin'  to  quit  soon  as  I  ketched  Potts's  dog. 
He'd  a  bin  splendid  to  bury  out  yer  with  the  others. 
Lemme  tell  you  how  it  is :  The  best  thing  to  make 
grape-vines  grow  is  dogs ;  bury  'em  right  down 
among  the  roots.  Some  people  prefer  grandmothers 
and  their  other  relations.  But  gimme  dogs  and  cats. 
Soon  as  I  seen  them  vines  of  yourn  I  said  to  myself, 
Them  vines  wants  a  few  dogs,  and  I  concluded  to  put 

7 


98  ELBOW-ROOM. 

in  the  first  day  rakin'  in  all  I  could  find.     I'm  goin' 
out  again  to-morrow,  down  the  other  road." 

But  he  didn't.  Mr.  Butterwick  discharged  him 
that  night.  He  was  too  enthusiastic  for  a  gardener, 
and  Mr.  Butterwick  thought  that  life  might  open  out 
to  him  a  brighter  and  more  beautiful  vista  in  some 
other  capacity. 

Subsequently,  Mr.  Butterwick  concluded  to  attend 
to  his  garden  himself,  and  early  in  the  spring  he  re 
ceived  from  the  Congressman  of  our  district  a  choice 
lot  of  assorted  seeds  brought  from  California  by  the 
Agricultural  Department.  There  were  more  than  he 
wanted,  so  he  gave  a  quantity  of  sugar-beet  and 
onion  seeds  to  Mr.  Potts,  and  some  turnip  and  radish 
seeds  to  Colonel  Coffin ;  then  he  planted  the  remain 
der,  consisting  of  turnip,  cabbage,  celery  and  beet 
seeds,  in  his  own  garden. 

When  the  plants  began  to  come  up,  he  thought 
they  looked  kind  of  queer,  but  he  waited  until  they 
grew  larger,  and  then,  as  he  felt  certain  something 
was  wrong,  he  sent  for  a  professional  gardener  to 
make  an  examination. 

"  Mr.  Hoops,"  he  said,  "  cast  your  eye  over  those 
turnips  and  tell  me  what  you  think  is  the  matter 
with  them." 

"  Turnip !"  exclaimed  Hoops.  "  Turnip !  Why, 
bless  your  soul,  man !  that's  not  turnip.  That's 
nothin'  but  pokeberry.  You've  got  enough  poke- 
berry  in  that  bed  to  last  a  million  years." 

"  Well,  Mr.  Hoops,  come  over  here  to  this  bed. 


GOVERNMENT  SEEDS.  99 

Now,  how  does  that  celery  strike  you  ?  The  munifi 
cent  Federal  government  is  spreading  that  celery  all 
over  this  land  of  the  free.  Great,  isn't  it  ?" 

"  Well,  well !"  said  Hoops  ;  "  and  they  shoved  that 
off  on  you  for  celery,  did  they  ?  Too  bad !  It's 
nothin'  on  earth  but  pokeberry.  This  is  the  Califor 
nia  kind — the  deadliest  pokeberry  that  was  ever 
invented." 

"  Are  you  sure  you're  not  mistaken,  Mr.  Hoops  ? 
But  you  haven't  seen  my  beets  there  in  the  adjoin 
ing  bed.  The  seeds  of  those  beets  were  sent  from 
Honolulu  by  our  consul  there.  He  reports  that 
the  variety  attains  gigantic  size." 

"  Really,  now,"  said  Hoops,  "  I  don't  want  to  hurt 
your  feelings,  but  to  be  fair  and  square  with  you,  as 
between  man  and  man,  those  are  not  beets,  you 
know.  They  are  the  Mexican  pokeberry.  I  pledge 
you  my  word  it's  the  awfulest  variety  of  that  plant 
that  grows.  It'll  stay  in  this  yer  garden  for  ever. 
You'll  never  get  rid  of  it." 

44  This  seems  a  little  hard,  Mr.  Hoops.  But  I'd 
like  you  to  inspect  my  cabbages.  They're  all  right, 
I  know.  The  commissioner  of  agriculture  got  the 
seed  from  Borneo.  They  are  the  curly  variety,  I 
think.  You  boil  them  with  pork,  and  they  cut  down 
beautifully  for  slaw.  Look  at  these  plants,  will  you  ? 
Ain't  they  splendid  ?" 

"  Mr.  Butterwick,"  said  Hoops,  "  I've  got  some 
bad  news  to  break  to  you,  but  I  hope  you'll  stand  it 
like  a  man.  These  afflictions  come  to  all  of  us  in 


IOO  ELBOW-ROOM. 

this  life,  sir.  They  are  meant  for  our  good.  But 
really,  sir,  those  are  not  Borneo  cabbages.  Cab 
bages  !  Why,  thunder  and  lightnin' !  They  are 
merely  a  mixture  of  California  and  Mexican  poke- 
berry  with  the  ordinary  kind,  and  a  little  Osage 
orange  sprinkled  through.  It's  awful,  sir!  Why, 
you've  got  about  two  acres  of  pokeberry  and  not  a 
blessed  bit  of  cabbage  or  turnips  among  them." 

"  Mr.  Hoops,  this  is  terrible  news ;  and  do  you 
know  I  gave  a  lot  of  those  seeds  to  Potts  and  Coffin  ?" 

"  I  know  you  did ;  and  I  seen  Colonel  Coffin  this 
mornin'  with  a  shot-gun  goin'  round  askin'  people 
if  they  knew  where  he  could  find  you." 

"  Find  me  !     What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  Well,  you  see,  sir,  that  there  onion  seed  that  you 
gave  him  was  really  the  seed  of  the  silver  maple 
tree,  and  it's  growed  up  so  thick  all  over  his  garden 
that  a  cat  can't  crawl  through  it.  There's  about 
forty  million  shoots  and  suckers  in  that  garden,  and 
they'll  have  to  be  cut  out  with  a  handsaw.  It'll  take 
about  a  year  to  do  it." 

"  You  appall  me,  Hoops  !" 

"  And  that's  not  the  worst  of  it.  The  roots  are 
so  matted  and  interlocked  jes  beneath  the  surface 
that  you  can't  make  any  impression  on  'em  with  a 
pickaxe.  That  garden  of  Coffin's  is  ruined — entirely 
ruined,  sir.  You  might  blast  those  roots  with  gun 
powder  and  it  would  make  no  difference.  And  the 
suckers  will  grow  faster  than  they're  cut  down.  He'll 
have  to  sell  the  property,  sir." 


A   POPULAR   LAWN-MOWER.  IOI 

"  And  the  commissioner  of  agriculture  said  that 
was  onion  seed.  Why  didn't  Coffin  hunt  him  with  a 
shot-gun  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  and  Mr.  Potts's  got  poktberry  and  silver 
maple  growin'  all  over  his  place,  too,  and  he's  as  mad 
as —  Well,  you  just  ought  to  hear  him  snortin' 
around  town.  He'll  kill  somebody,  I'm  afeard." 

Mr.  Butterwick  settled  the  difficulty  with  Coffin 
and  Potts  somehow,  but  he  made  up  his  mind  to 
vote  for  another  man  for  Congress  at  the  next 
election. 

Mr.  Butterwick  was  the  first  man  to  introduce  that 
ingenious  and  useful  implement  the  lawn-mower  into 
our  section  of  the  country.  As  his  mower  was  the 
only  one  in  the  village,  it  was  at  once  in  great 
demand.  Everybody  wanted  to  borrow  it  for  a  few 
days,  and  Butterwick  lent  it  with  such  generosity 
that  it  was  out  most  of  the  time,  and  a  good  many 
people  had  to  wait  for  it.  At  last  there  was  quite  a 
rivalry  who  should  have  it  next,  and  the  folks  used 
to  put  in  their  claims  with  the  owner  whenever  they 
had  an  opportunity. 

One  day  Mr.  Smith's  wife  died,  and  Mr.  Butter 
wick  attended  the  funeral.  Smith  was  nearly  wild 
with  grief.  As  the  remains  were  put  into  their  last 
resting-place  he  cried  as  if  his  heart  would  break, 
and  his  friends  began  to  get  uneasy  about  his  nervous 
system.  Presently  he  took  his  handkerchief  from 
his  eyes  for  a  moment  to  rub  his  nose,  and  as  he  did 
so.  he  saw  Butterwick  looking  at  him.  A  thought 


102  ELBOW-ROOM. 

seemed  to  strike  Smith.  He  dashed  away  a  couple 
of  tears ;  and  stepping  over  a  heap  of  loose  earth  as 
they  began  to  shovel  it  in,  he  grasped  Butterwick 
by  the  hand.  Butterwick  gave  him  a  sympathetic 
squeeze,  and  said, 

"  Sorry  for  you,  Smith  ;  I  am  indeed  !  A  noble 
woman  and  a  good  wife.  But  bear  up  under  it, 
bear  up  !  Our  loss,  you  know,  is  her  gain." 

"  Ah !  she  was  indeed  a  woman  in  a  thousand," 
responded  Smith ;  "  and  now  to  think  that  she  has 
gone — gone,  left  us  for  ever !  But  these  afflictions 
must  not  make  us  forget  the  duty  we  owe  to  the 
living.  She  has  passed  away  from  toil  and  suffering, 
but  we  still  have  much  to  do;  and,  Butterwick,  I  want 
to  borrow  your  lawn-mower.  If  you  can  fix  it  for 
Tuesday,  I  think  maybe  the  worst  of  my  anguish 
will  be  over." 

"  You  may  have  it,  of  course." 

"  Thank  you  ;  oh,  thank  you  !  Our  friends  are  a 
great  comfort  to  us  in  the  hour  of  bereavement;" 
and  then  Smith  gave  his  arm  to  his  mother-in-law, 
put  his  handkerchief  to  his  eyes  and  joined  the  pro 
cession  of  mourners. 

Upon  the  following  Sunday,  Rev.  Dr.  Dox  preached 
a  splendid  sermon  over  in  the  Free  church,  and  just 
as  he  reached  "  secondly  "  he  paused,  looked  around 
upon  the  congregation  for  a  minute,  and  then  he 
beckoned  Deacon  Moody  to  come  up  to  the  pulpit. 
He  whispered  something  in  Moody's  ear,  and  Moody 
seemed  surprised.  The  congregation  was  wild  with 


A   POPULAR  LAWN-MOWER.  1 03 

curiosity  to  know  what  was  the  matter.  Then  the 
deacon,  blushing  scarlet  and  seeming  annoyed, 
walked  down  the  aisle  and  whispered  in  Butterwick's 
ear.  Butterwick  nodded,  and  whispered  to  his  wife, 
who  was  perishing  to  know  what  it  was.  She  leaned 
over  and  communicated  it  to  Mrs.  Bunnel,  in  the  pew 
in  front ;  and  when  the  Bunnels  all  had  it,  they  sent 
it  on  to  the  people  next  to  them,  and  so  before  the 
doctor  reached  "  thirdly "  the  whole  congregation 
knew  that  he  wanted  to  borrow  Butterwick's  lawn- 
mower  on  Monday  morning  early. 

A  day  or  two  later,  while  Butterwick  was  crossing 
the  creek  upon  a  train  of  cars,  the  train  ran  off  the 
track  and  rolled  his  car  into  the  water.  Butterwick 
got  out,  however,  into 
the  stream,  and  as  he 
emerged,  spluttering 
and  blowing,  he 
struck  against  a  stran 
ger  who  was  treading 
water.  The  stranger  apologized,  and  said  that  But 
terwick  might  not  recognize  him  in  his  dilapidated 
condition  as  Martin  Thompson,  but  while  they  were 
together,  he  would  like  to  put  in  a  word  for  that 
lawn-mower  when  the  parson  was  done  with  it. 

At  last  Butterwick  grew  tired  of  lending,  and  re 
fused  all  applicants.  Then  the  people  began  to  steal 
it,  and  six  respectable  citizens  only  escaped  going  to 
jail  because  Butterwick  had  consideration  for  their 
families.  Finally  he  chained  it  to  the  pump,  and  then 


1 04  ELBOW-RO  OM. 

they  sawed  off  the  pump  and  operated  the  mower 
with  the  log  as  a  roller.  Butterwick  at  last  put  it  on 
top  of  his  house,  and  that  night  fourteen  ladders 
were  seen  against  the  wall.  They  did  say  that  Ram 
sey,  the  lawyer,  made  one  effort  with  a  hot-air  bal 
loon,  and  failed  only  because  he  fell  out  and  hurt  his 
leg ;  but  this  was  never  traced  to  any  reliable  source. 
The  following  week  a  man  arrived  and  opened  an 
agency  for  the  sale  of  the  mowers  in  the  village,  and 
gradually  the  excitement  abated.  Butterwick,  how 
ever,  has  cut  his  grass  with  a  sickle  ever  since. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE  MEETING  AND  ITS  MISSIONARY  WORK. 

|HE  Methodist  church  in  the  village  is 
doing  now,  as  it  has  always  done,  a  good 
and  noble  work  for  Christianity  and  the 
cause  of  public  morals ;  but  it  has  not 
escaped  the  trials  which  are  permitted  sometimes  to 
afflict  the  Church  militant.  Years  ago,  when  the 
congregation  was  first  organized,  it  erected  a  small 
but  very  pretty  frame  meeting-house.  In  the  course 
of  time  the  people  became  dissatisfied  with  the  loca 
tion  of  the  house  of  worship;  and  as  they  had  a  good 
offer  for  the  site,  they  sold  it  and  bought  a  better  one 
in  another  quarter.  Then  they  put  rollers  under  the 
building,  and  as  soon  as  it  was  off  the  ground  the 
purchaser  of  the  lot  began  to  build  a  dwelling-house 
on  the  site.  It  was  slow  work  pushing  the  church 
along  the  street,  and  before  they  got  far  somebody 
discovered  that  the  title  of  the  new  site  was  not  good, 
and  so  the  bargain  was  annulled.  The  next  day  the 
brethren  went  plunging  around  town  trying  to  buy 
another  site,  but  nobody  had  one  to  sell ;  and  on  the 
following  morning  the  supervisors  got  an  order  from 

105 


106  ELBOW-ROOM. 

the  court  requiring  that  meeting-house  to  be  removed 
from  the  public  street  within  twenty-four  hours. 

The  brethren  were  nearly  wild  about  it,  and  they 
begged  old  Brindley  to  let  them  run  the  concern  in 
on  his  vacant  lot  temporarily  until  they  could  look 
around.  But  Brindley  belonged  to  another  denom 
ination,  and  he  said  he  felt  that  it  would  be  wrong 
for  him  to  do  anything  to  help  a  church  that  believed 
false  doctrines.  Then  they  ran  the  meeting-house 
out  on  the  turnpike  beyond  the  town,  whereupon 
the  turnpike  company  notified  them  that  its  charges 
would  be  eight  dollars  a  day  for  toll.  So  they  hauled 
it  back  again;  and  while  going  down  the  hill  it  broke 
loose,  plunged  through  the  fence  of  Dr.  Mackey's 
garden  and  brought  up  on  top  of  his  asparagus-bed. 
He  is  an  Episcopalian,  and  he  sued  the  meeting  for 
damages ;  and  the  sheriff  levied  upon  the  meeting 
house.  The  brethren  paid  the  bill  and  dragged  the 
building  out  again. 

They  wanted  to  put  it  in  the  court-house  yard,  but 
Judge  Twiddler,  who  is  a  Presbyterian,  said  that  after 
examining  the  statutes  carefully  he  could  find  no  law 
allowing  a  Methodist  meeting-house  to  be  located  in 
that  place.  In  despair,  the  brethren  ran  the  building 
down  to  the  river-shore  and  fitted  it  on  a  huge  raft 
of  logs,  concluding  to  tie  it  to  the  wharf  until  they 
could  buy  a  lot.  But  as  the  owner  of  the  wharf 
handed  them  on  the  third  day  a  bill  of  twenty-five 
dollars  for  wharfage,  they  took  the  building  out  and 
anchored  it  in  the  stream.  That  night  a  tug-boat, 


MR.  POTTS'   HAT.  IO/ 

coming  up  the  river  in  the  dark,  ran  halfway  through 
the  Sunday-school  room,  and  a  Dutch  brig,  coming 
into  collision  with  it,  was  drawn  out  with  the  pulpit 
and  three  of  the  front  pews  dangling  from  the  bow 
sprit.  The  owners  of  both  vessels  sued  for  damages, 
and  the  United  States  authorities  talked  of  confiscat 
ing  the  meeting-house  as  an  obstruction  to  naviga 
tion.  But  a  few  days  afterward  the  ice-gorge  sent  a 
flood  down  the  river  and  broke  the  building  loose 
from  its  anchor.  It  was  subsequently  washed  ashore 
on  Keyser's  farm ;  and  he  said  he  was  willing  to  let 
it  stay  there  at  four  dollars  a  day  rent  until  he  was 
ready  to  plough  for  corn.  As  the  cost  of  removing 
it  would  have  been  very  great,  the  trustees  ultimately 
sold  it  to  Keyser  for  a  barn,  and  then,  securing  a 
good  lot,  they  built  a  handsome  edifice  of  stone. 

On  the  first  Sunday  that  the  congregation  wor 
shiped  in  the  new  church  Mr.  Potts  attended ;  and 
in  accordance  with  his  custom,  he  placed  his  silk 
high  hat  just  outside  of  the  pew  in  the  aisle.  In  a 
few  moments  Mrs.  Jones  entered,  and  as  she  pro 
ceeded  up  the  aisle  her  abounding  skirts  caught  Mr. 
Potts'  hat  and  rolled  it  nearly  to  the  pulpit.  Mr. 
Potts  pursued  his  hat  with  feelings  of  indignation ; 
and  when  Mrs.  Jones  took  her  seat,  he  walked  back, 
brushing  the  hat  with  his  sleeve.  A  few  moments 
later  Mrs.  Hopkins  came  into  church ;  and  as  Mr. 
Potts  had  again  placed  his  hat  in  the  aisle,  Mrs. 
Hopkins'  skirts  struck  it  and  swept  it  along  about 
twenty  feet,  and  left  it  lying  on  the  carpet  in  a  de- 


108  ELBOW-ROOM. 

moralized  condition.  Mr.  Potts  was  singing  a  hymn 
at  the  time,  and  he  didn't  miss  it.  But  a  moment 
later,  when  he  looked  over  the  end  of  the  pew  to 
see  if  it  was  safe,  he  was  furious  to  perceive  that  it 
was  gone.  He  skirmished  up  the  aisle  after  it  again, 
red  in  the  face,  and  uttering  sentences  which  were 
very  much  out  of  place  in  the  sanctuary.  However, 
he  put  the  hat  down  again  and  determined  to  keep 
his  eye  on  it,  but  just  as  he  turned  his  head  away  for 
a  moment  Mrs.  Smiley  came  in,  and  Potts  looked 
around  only  in  time  to  watch  the  hat  being  gathered 
in  under  Mrs.  Smiley's  skirts  and  carried  away  by 
them.  He  started  in  pursuit,  and  just  as  he  did  so 
the  hat  must  have  rolled  against  Mrs.  Smiley's  ankles, 
for  she  gave  a  jump  and  screamed  right  out  in 
church.  When  her  husband  asked  her  what  was  the 
matter,  she  said  there  must  be  a  dog  under  her  dress, 
and  she  gave  her  skirts  a  twist.  Out  rolled  Mr. 
Potts'  hat,  and  Mr.  Smiley,  being  very  near-sighted, 
thought  it  was  a  dog,  and  immediately  kicked  it  so 
savagely  that  it  flew  up  into  the  gallery  and  lodged 
on  top  of  the  organ.  Mr.  Potts,  perfectly  frantic  with 
rage,  forgot  where  he  was;  and  holding  his  clinched 
fist  under  Smiley's  nose,  he  shrieked,  "  I've  half  a 
mind  to  brain  you,  you  scoundrel !"  Then  he  flung 
down  his  hymn-book  and  rushed  from  the  church. 
He  went  home  bareheaded,  and  the  sexton  brought 
his  humiliating  hat  around  after  dinner.  After  that 
Mr.  Potts  expressed  a  purpose  to  go  habitually  to 
Quaker  meeting,  where  he  could  say  his  prayers  with 


MRS.   WHISTLER'S  CASE.  IOO, 

his  hat  on  his  head,  and  where  the  skirts  of  female 
worshippers  are  smaller. 

Upon  a  subsequent  occasion  Mrs.  Whistler  had 
even  a  greater  occasion  for  dissatisfaction  with  the 
sanctuary. 

The  facts  in  Mrs.  Whistler's  case  were  these: 
Mrs.  Whistler  has  singular  absence  of  mind,  and  on 
the  last  Sunday  she  attended  church  Dr.  Dox  began 
to  read  from  the  Scriptures  the  account  of  the  Del 
uge.  Mrs.  Whistler  was  deeply  attentive;  and  when 
the  doctor  came  to  the  story  of  how  it  rained  for  so 
many  days  and  nights,  she  was  so  much  absorbed  in 
the  narrative  and  so  strongly  impressed  with  it  that 
she  involuntarily  put  up  her  umbrella  and  held  it 
over  her  head  as  she  sat  in  the  pew.  It  appears  that 
Mrs.  Moody,  who  sits  in  the  next  pew  in  front,  fre 
quently  brings  her  lap-dog  to  church  with  her;  and 
when  Mrs.  Whistler  raised  her  umbrella  suddenly, 
the  action  affected  the  sensibilities  of  Mrs.  Moody's 
dog  in  such  a  manner  that  he  began  to  bark  fu 
riously. 

Of  course  the  sexton  came  in  for  the  purpose  of 
removing  the  animal,  but  it  dodged  into  a  vacant 
pew  upon  the  other  side  of  the  aisle  and  defied  him, 
barking  vociferously  all  the  time.  Then  the  sexton 
became  warm  and  indignant,  and  he  flung  a  cane 
at  the  dog,  whereupon  the  dog  flew  out  and  bit 
his  leg.  The  excitement  in  the  church  by  this 
time,  of  course,  was  simply  dreadful.  Not  only  was 


110  ELBOW-ROOM. 

the  story  of  the  Deluge  interrupted,  but  the  unre- 
generate  Sunday-school  scholars  in  the  gallery  act 
ually  hissed  the  dog  at  the  sexton,  and  seemed  to 
enjoy  the  contest  exceedingly. 

Then  Elder  McGinn  came  after  the  dog  with  his 
cane,  and  as  he  pursued  the  animal  it  dashed  toward 
the  pulpit  and  ran  up  the  steps  in  such  a  fierce  man 
ner  that  the  doctor  quickly  mounted  a  chair  and 
remarked,  with  anger  flashing  through  his  spectacles, 
that  if  this  disgraceful  scene  did  not  soon  come  to  an 
end  he  should  dismiss  the  congregation.  Then  the 
elder  crept  softly  up  the  stairs,  and  after  a  short 
struggle  he  succeeded  in  grasping  the  dog  by  one 
of  its  hind  legs.  Then  he  walked  down  the  aisle 
with  it,  the  dog  meantime  yelling  with  supernatural 
energy  and  the  Sunday-school  boys  making  facetious 
remarks. 

Mrs.  Whistler  turned  around,  with  other  members 
of  the  congregation,  to  watch  the  retreating  elder, 
and  as  she  did  so  she  permitted  her  unconscious 
umbrella  to  droop  so  that  the  end  of  one  of  the  ribs 
caught  Mrs.  Moody's  bonnet.  A  moment  later, 
when  she  was  straightening  up  the  umbrella,  the 
bonnet  was  wrenched  off,  and  hung  dangling  from 
the  umbrella.  Mrs.  Moody  had  become  exceedingly 
warm,  at  any  rate,  over  the  onslaught  made  upon 
her  dog,  but  when  Mrs.  Whistler  removed  her  bon 
net,  she  fairly  boiled  over;  and  turning  around,  white 
with  rage,  she  screamed, 

"  What'd  you  grab  that  bonnet  for,  you  wretch ! 


THE  DORCAS  SOCIETY.  Ill 

Haven't  you  made  enough  fuss  in  this  church  to 
day,  skeering  a  poor  innocent  dog,  without  snatch 
ing  off  such  bonnets  as  the  like  of  you  can't  afford 
to  wear,  no  matter  how  mean  you  live  at  home,  you 
red-headed  lunatic,  you  !  You  let  my  bonnet  alone, 
or  I'll  hit  you  with  this  parasol,  if  it  is  in  meeting, 
now  mind  me !" 

Then  Mrs.  Whistler,  for  the  first  time,  seemed  to 
realize  that  her  umbrella  made  her  conspicuous ;  so 
she  furled  it  and  concluded  to  escape  from  an  em 
barrassing  position  by  going  home.  As  she  step 
ped  into  the  aisle  her  enemy  gave  her  a  parting 
salute : 

"  Sneaking  off  before  the  collection,  too  !  You'd 
better  spend  less  for  breastpins  and  give  more  to  the 
poor  heathen  if  you  don't  want  to  ketch  it  here 
after!"  '  . 

Then  she  began  to  fan  herself  furiously,  and  as 
Mrs.  Whistler  emerged  from  the  front  door  and 
things  became  calmer  the  doctor  resumed  the  story 
of  the  Flood.  But  Mrs.  Whistler  has  given  up  her 
pew  and  gone  over  to  the  Presbyterians,  and  there 
are  rumors  that  Mrs.  Moody  is  going  to  secede  also 
because  Elder  McGinn  insists  that  she  shall  leave 
her  dog  at  home. 

The  Dorcas  and  missionary  societies  of  the  church 
are  particularly  active,  but  they  were  somewhat  dis 
couraged  a  year  or  two  ago  by  certain  unforeseen 
occurrences.  The  ladies  of  the  Dorcas  Society 


112  ELBOW-ROOM. 

made  up  a  large  quantity  of  shirts,  trousers  and 
socks,  and  boxed  them  up  and  sent  them  to  a  mis 
sionary  station  on  the  west  coast  of  Africa.  A  man 
named  Ridley  went  out  with  the  boxes  and  stayed 
in  Africa  for  several  months.  When  he  returned,  the 
Dorcas  Society,  of  course,  was  anxious  to  hear  how 
its  donation  wa£  received,  and  Ridley  one  evening 
met  the  members  and  told  them  about  it  in  a  little 
speech.  He  said, 

"  Well,  you  know,  we  got  the  clothes  out  there  all 
right,  and  after  a  while  we  distributed  them  among 
some  of  the  natives  in  the  neighborhood.  We 
thought  maybe  it  would  attract  them  to  the  mis 
sion,  but  it  didn't;  and  after  some  time  had  elapsed 
and  not  a  native  came  to  church  with  the  clothes  on, 
I  went  out  on  an  exploring  expedition  to  find  out 
about  it.  It  seems  that  on  the  first  day  after  the 
goods  were  distributed  one  of  the  chiefs  attempted 
to  dress  himself  in  a  shirt.  He  didn't  exactly  un 
derstand  it,  and  he  pushed  his  legs  through  the 
arms  and  gathered  the  tail  up  around  his  waist.  He 
couldn't  make  it  stay  up,  however,  and  they  say  he 
went  around  inquiring  in  his  native  tongue  what 
kind  of  an  idiot  it  was  that  constructed  a  garment 
that  wouldn't  hang  on,  and  swearing  some  of  the 
most  awful  heathen  oaths.  At  last  he  let  it  drag, 
and  that  night  he  got  his  legs  tangled  in  it  somehow 
and  fell  over  a  precipice  and  was  killed. 

"Another  chief  who  got  one  on  properly  went 
paddling  around  in  the  dark,  and  the  people,  imagin- 


BEHAVIOUR   OF  THE  HEATHEN.  113 

ing  that  he  was  a  ghost,  sacrificed  four  babies  to  keep 
off  the  evil  spirit. 


"And  then,  you  know,  those  trousers  you  sent 
out  ?  Well,  they  fitted  one  pair  on  an  idol,  and  then 
they  stuffed  most  of  the  rest  with  leaves  and  set  them 
up  as  kind  of  new-fangled  idols  and  began  to  wor 
ship  them.  They  say  that  the  services  were  very 
impressive.  Some  of  the  women  split  a  few  pairs  in 
half,  and  after  sewing  up  the  legs  used  them  to  carry 
yams  in;  and  I  saw  one  chief  with  a  corduroy  leg  on 
his  head  as  a  kind  of  helmet. 

"  I  think,  though,  the  socks  were  most  popular. 
All  the  fighting-men  went  for  them  the  first  thing. 
They  filled  them  with  sand  and  used  them  as  boom 
erangs  and  war-clubs.  I  learned  that  they  were  so 

8 


114  ELBOW-ROOM. 

much  pleased  with  the  efficiency  of  those  socks  that 
they  made  a  raid  on  a  neighboring  tribe  on  purpose 
to  try  them;  and  they  say  they  knocked  about 
eighty  women  and  children  on  the  head  before  they 
came  home.  They  asked  me  if  I  wouldn't  speak  to 
you  and  get  you  to  send  out  a  few  barrels  more,  and  to 
make  them  a  little  stronger,  so's  they'd  last  longer ; 
and  I  said  I  would. 

"This  society's  doing  a  power  of  good  to  those 
heathen,  and  I've  no  doubt  if  you  keep  right  along 
with  the  work  you  will  inaugurate  a  general  war  all 
over  the  continent  of  Africa  and  give  everybody  an 
idol  of  his  own.  All  they  want  is  enough  socks  and 
trousers.  I'll  take  them  when  I  go  out  again." 

Then  the  Dorcas  passed  a  resolution  declaring  that 
it  would,  perhaps,  be  better  to  let  the  heathen  go 
naked  and  give  the  clothes  to  the  poor  at  home. 
Maybe  that  is  the  better  way. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

JUDGE  TWIDDLER'S  COW. 

|OR  several  months  previous  to  last  sum 
mer  Judge  Twiddler's  family  obtained 
milk  from  Mr.  Biles,  the  most  prominent 
milk-dealer  in  the  village.  The  prevail 
ing  impression  among  the  Twiddlers  was  that  Mr. 
Biles  supplied  an  exceedingly  thin  and  watery  fluid ; 
and  one  day  when  the  judge  stepped  over  to  pay 
his  quarterly  bill  he  determined  to  make  com 
plaint.  He  found  Mr.  Biles  in  the  yard  mending 
the  valve  of  his  pump;  and  when  the  judge  made  a 
jocular  remark  to  the  effect  that  the  dairy  must  be 
in  a  bad  way  when  the  pump  was  out  of  order,  Mr. 
Biles,  rising  with  his  hammer  in  his  hand,  said, 

"  Oh,  I  ain't  going  to  deny  that  we  water  the  milk. 
I  don't  mind  the  joking  about  it.  But  all  I  say  is 
that  when  people  say  we  do  it  from  mercenary  mo 
tives  they  slander  the  profession.  No,  sir;  when  I 
put  water  in  the  milk,  I  do  it  out  of  kindness  for  the 
people  who  drink  it.  I  do  it  because  I'm  philan 
thropic — because  I'm  sensitive  and  can't  bear  to  see 
folks  suffer.  Now,  s'pos'n  a  cow  is  bilious  or  some- 

115 


1*6  ELBOW-ROOM. 

thing,  and  it  makes  her  milk  unwholesome.  I  give 
it  a  dash  or  two  of  water,  and  up  it  comes  to  the 
usual  level.  Water's  the  only  thing  that'll  do  it. 
Or  s'pos'n  that  cow  eats  a  pison  vine  in  the  woods; 
am  I  going  to  let  my  innocent  customers  be  killed 
by  it  for  the  sake  of  saving  a  little  labor  at  the 
pump?  No,  sir;  I  slush  in  a  few  quarts  of  water, 
neutralize  the  pison,  and  there  she  is  as  right  as  a 
trivet. 

"  But  you  take  the  best  milk  that  ever  was,  and  it 
ain't  fit  for  the  human  stomach  as  it  comes  from  the 
cow.  It  has  too  much  caseine  in  it.  Prof.  Hux 
ley  says  that  millions  of  poor  ignorant  men  and  wo 
men  are  murdered  every  year  by  loading  down  weak 
stomachs  with  caseine.  It  sucks  up  the  gastric  juice, 
he  says,  and  gets  daubed  all  around  over  the  mem 
branes  until  the  pores  are  choked,  and  then  the 
first  thing  you  know  the  man  suddenly  curls  all  up 
and  dies.  He  says  that  out  yer  in  Asia,  where  the 
milkmen  are  not  as  conscientious  as  we  are,  there 
are  whole  cemeteries  chock  full  of  people  that  have 
died  of  caseine,  and  that  before  long  all  that  country 
will  be  one  vast  burying-ground  if  they  don't  ame 
liorate  the  milk.  When  I  think  of  the  responsibility 
resting  on  me,  is  it  singular  that  I  look  at  this  old 
pump  and  wonder  that  people  don't  come  and  silver 
plate  it  and  put  my  statue  on  it  ?  I  tell  you,  sir, 
that  that  humble  pump  with  the  cast-iron  handle  is 
the  only  thing  that  stands  betwixt  you  and  sudden 
death. 


JUDGE    TWIDDLER'S   COW.  1 1/ 

"  And  besides  that,  you  know  how  kinder  flat  raw 
milk  tastes — kinder  insipid  and  mean.  Now,  Prof. 
Huxley,  he  says  that  there  is  only  one  thing  that 
will  vivify  milk  and  make  it  luxurious  to  the  palate, 
and  that  is  water.  Give  it  a  few  jerks  under  the 
pump,  and  out  it  comes  sparkling  and  delicious,  like 
nectar.  I  dunno  how  it  is,  but  Prof.  Huxley  says 
that  it  undergoes  some  kinder  chemical  change  that 
nothing  else'll  bring  about  but  a  flavoring  of  fine 
old  pump-water.  You  know  the  doctors  all  water 
the  milk  for  babies.  They  know  mighty  well  if  they 
didn't  those  young  ones'd  shrink  all  up  and  sorter 
fade  away.  Nature  is  the  best  judge.  What  makes 
cows  drink  so  much  water?  Instinct,  sir — instinct. 
Something  whispers  to  'em  that  if  they  don't  sluice 
in  a  little  water  that  caseine'd  make  'em  giddy  and 
eat  'em  up.  Now,  what's  the  odds  whether  I  put  in 
the  water  or  the  cow  does  ?  She's  only  a  poor  brute 
beast,  and  might  often  drink  too  little ;  but  when  I 
go  at  it,  I  bring  the  mighty  human  intellect  to  bear 
on  the  subject ;  I  am  guided  by  reason,  and  I  can 
water  that  milk  so's  it'll  have  the  greatest  possible 
effect. 

"  Now,  there's  chalk.  I  know  some  people  have 
an  idea  that  it's  wrong  to  fix  up  your  milk  with 
chalk.  But  that's  only  mere  blind  bigotry.  What 
is  chalk  ?  A  substance  provided  by  beneficent  na 
ture  for  healing  the  ills  of  the  human  body.  A  cow 
don't  eat  chalk  because  it's  not  needed  by  her. 
Poor  uneducated  animal !  she  can't  grasp  these  higher 


Il8  ELBOW-ROOM. 

problems,  and  she  goes  on  nibbling  sour-grass  and 
other  things,  and  filling  her  milk  with  acid,  which 
destroys  human  membranes  and  induces  colic. 
Then  science  comes  to  the  rescue.  Professor  Hux 
ley  tells  us  that  chalk  cures  acidity.  Consequently, 
I  get  some  chalk,  stir  it  in  my  cans  and  save  the 
membranes  of  my  customers  without  charging  them 
a  cent  for  it — actually  give  it  away ;  and  yet  they 
talk  about  us  milkmen  'sif  we  were  buccaneers  and 
enemies  of  the  race. 

"  But  I  don't  care.  My  conscience  is  clear.  I 
know  mighty  well  that  I  have  a  high  and  holy  mis 
sion  to  perform,  and  I'm  going  to  perform  it  if  they 
burn  me  at  the  stake.  What  do  I  care  how  much 
this  pump  costs  me  if  it  spreads  blessings  through 
the  community  ?  What  difference  does  it  make  to  a 
man  of  honor  like  me  if  chalk  is  six  cents  a  pound 
so  long  as  I  know  that  without  it  there  wouldn't  be 
a  membrane  in  this  community  ?  Now,  look  at  the 
thing  in  the  right  light,  and  you'll  believe  me  that 
before  another  century  rolls  around  a  grateful  uni 
verse  will  worship  the  memory  of  the  first  milkman 
who  ever  had  a  pump  and  who  doctored  his  milk 
with  chalk.  It  will,  unless  justice  is  never  to  have 
her  own." 

Then  Mr.  Biles  rigged  the  sucker  in  the  pump, 
toned  up  a  few  cans  of  milk,  corrected  the  acidity, 
and  went  into  the  house  to  receipt  the  judge's 
bill. 

Mr.  Biles'  theory   interested   the  judge,  but  the 


JUDGE    TWIDDLER'S   COW. 

argument  did  not  convince  him.  And  so  the  judge 
resolved  to  buy  a  cow  and  obtain  pure  milk,  without 
regard  for  the  alleged  views  of  Professor  Huxley. 
Accordingly,  he  purchased  a  cow  of  a  man  named 
Smith,  who  lives  over  at  the  Rising  Sun.  She  was 
warranted  to  be  fresh  and  a  first-rate  milker.  When 
Judge  Twiddler  got  her  home,  he  asked  his  hired 
man,  Mooney,  if  he  knew  how  to  milk  a  cow,  and 
Mooney  said  of  course  he  did.  The  animal,  there 
fore,  was  consigned  to  Mooney's  care.  On  the  next 
day,  however,  Mooney  came  into  the  house  to  see 
the  judge,  and  he  said, 

"  Judge,  that  man  cheated  you  in  that  cow.  Why, 
she's  the  awfullest  old  beast  that  ever  stood  on  four 
legs.  Dry  as  punk ;  hasn't  got  a  drop  of  milk  in 
her.  That's  a  positive  fact.  I've  been  trying  to 
milk  her  for  three  or  four  hours,  and  can't  get  a  drop. 
Might  as  well  attempt  to  milk  a  clothes-horse. 
Regular  fraud !" 

"  This  is  very  extraordinary,"  exclaimed  the 
judge. 

"  Yes,  sir ;  and  she's  wicked.  I  never  saw  such  a 
disposition  in  a  cow.  Why,  while  I  was  working 
with  her  she  kicked  like  a  flint-lock  musket ;  butted 
and  rared  around.  I'd  rather  fool  with  a  tiger  than 
with  a  cow  like  that." 

So  the  judge  drove  over  to  the  Rising  Sun  to  see 
Smith  about  it ;  and  when  he  complained  that  Smith 
had  sold  him  a  worthless  and  vicious  beast,  and  a 
dry  cow  at  that,  Smith  said  there  must  be  some  mis- 


120  ELBOW-ROOM. 

take  about  it.  He  agreed  to  go  back  with  the  judge 
and  investigate  the  matter.  When  they  reached  the 
judge's  stable,  Mooney  was  not  about,  but  Smith 
descended  from  the  wagon,  approached  the  cow, 
and,  to  the  astonishment  of  the  judge,  milked  her 
without  the  slightest  difficulty,  the  cow  meantime 
remaining  perfectly  quiet,  and  even  breaking  out  now 
and  then  into  what  the  judge  thought  looked  like 
smiles  of  satisfaction.  And  then  the  judge  went  out 
to  hunt  up  his  hired  man.  He  said  to  him, 

"  Mooney,  what  did  you  mean  by  telling  me  that 
our  cow  was  dry  and  ugly?  You  said  you  couldn't 
milk  her,  but  Mr.  Smith  does  so  without  any  diffi 
culty,  and  the  cow  remains  perfectly  passive." 

"  I'd  like  to  see  him  do  it,"  said  Mooney,  incredu 
lously. 

Then  Smith  sat  down  and  proceeded  to  perform 
the  operation  again.  When  he  began,  Mooney  ex 
claimed, 

"  Why,  my  gracious  !  that  isn't  the  way  you  milk 
a  cow,  is  it  ?" 

"Of  course  it  is,"  replied  Smith.  "How  else 
would  you  do  it  ?" 

"  Well,  well !  and  that's  the  way  you  milk,  is  it  ? 
I  see  now  I  didn't  go  about  it  exactly  right.  Why, 
you  know,  I  never  had  much  experience  at  the  busi 
ness  ;  I  was  brought  up  in  town,  and,  be  George, 
when  I  tackled  her,  I  threw  her  over  on  her  back 
and  tried  to  milk  her  with  a  clothes-pin.  I  see 
now  I  was  wrong.  We  live  and  learn,  don't  we  ?" 


JUDGE    TWIDDLERS  COW. 


121 


So  Smith  went 
home,  and  the  cow 
remained,  and  the 
judge's  man  wax 
es  stronger  in  ex 
perience  with  the  mysteries  of  existence  daily. 

But  the  cow  was  not  a  perfect  animal,  after  all. 
Among  other  things,  Smith  assured  the  judge  that 
she  had  a  splendid  appetite.  He  said  that  she  was 
the  easiest  cow  with  her  feed  that  he  ever  saw ;  she 


122  ELBOW-ROOM. 

would  eat  almost  anything,  and  she  was  generally 
hungry. 

At  the  end  of  the  first  week  after  she  came,  Mrs. 
Twiddler  concluded  to  churn.  The  hired  man  spent 
the  whole  day  at  the  crank,  and  about  sunset  the  but 
ter  came.  They  got  it  out,  and  found  that  there  was 
almost  half  a  pound.  Then  Mrs.  Twiddler  began  to 
see  how  economical  it  was  to  make  her  own  butter. 
A  half  pound  at  the  store  cost  thirty  cents.  The 
wages  of  that  man  for  one  day  were  one  dollar,  and 
so  the  butter  was  costing  about  three  dollars  a  pound, 
without  counting  the  keep  of  the  cow.  When  they 
tried  the  butter,  it  was  so  poor  that  they  couldn't  eat 
it,  and  they  gave  it  to  the  man  to  grease  the  wheel 
barrow  with.  It  seemed  somewhat  luxurious  and 
princely  to  maintain  a  cow  for  the  purpose  of  sup 
plying  grease  at  three  dollars  a  pound  for  the  wheel 
barrow,  but  it  was  hard  to  see  precisely  where  the 
profits  came  in.  After  about  a  fortnight  the  cow 
seemed  so  unhappy  in  the  stable  that  the  judge 
turned  her  out  in  the  yard. 

The  first  night  she  was  loose  she  upset  the  grape-ar 
bor  with  her  horns  and  ate  four  young  peach  trees 
and  a  dwarf  pear  tree  down  to  the  roots.  The  next 
day  they  gave  her  as  much  hay  as  she  would  eat, 
and  it  seemed  likely  that  her  appetite  was  appeased. 
But  an  hour  or  two  afterward  she  swallowed  six  cro 
quet-balls  that  were  lying  upon  the  grass,  and  ate 
half  a  table-cloth  and  a  pair  of  drawers  from  the 
clothes-line.  That  evening  her  milk  seemed  thin, 


JUDGE    TWIDDLERS  COW.  123 

and  the  judge  attributed  it  to  the  indigestibility  of 
the  table-cloth. 

During  the  night  she  must  have  got  to  walking 
in  her  sleep,  for  she  climbed  over  the  fence ;  and  when 
she  was  discovered,  she  was  swallowing  one  of  Mrs. 
Twiddler's  hoopskirts.  That  evening  she  ran  dry 
and  didn't  give  any  milk  at  all.  The  judge  thought 
the  exercise  she  had  taken  must  have  been  too 
severe,  and  probably  the  hoopskirt  was  not  suffi 
ciently  nutritious.  It  was  comforting,  however,  to 
reflect  that  she  was  less  expensive,  from  the  latter 
point  of  view,  when  she  was  dry  than  when  she  was 
fresh.  Next  morning  she  ate  the  spout  off  the 
watering-pot,  and  then  put  her  head  in  the  kitchen 
window  and  devoured  two  dinner-plates  and  the 
cream-jug.  Then  she  went  out  and  lay  down  on  the 
strawberry-bed  to  think.  While  there  something 
about  Judge  Twiddler's  boy  seemed  to  exasperate 
her ;  and  when  he  came  over  into  the  yard  after  his 
ball,  she  inserted  her  horns  into  his  trowsers  and 
flung  him  across  the  fence.  Then  she  went  to  the 
stable  and  ate  a  litter  of  pups  and  three  feet  of  the 
trace-chain. 

The  judge  felt  certain  that  her  former  owner  didn't 
deceive  him  when  he  said  her  appetite  was  good. 
She  had  hunger  enough  for  a  drove  of  cattle  and  a 
couple  of  flocks  of  sheep.  That  day  the  judge  went 
after  the  butcher  to  get  him  to  buy  her.  When  he 
returned  with  him,  she  had  just  eaten  the  monkey-  ' 
wrench  and  the  screw-driver,  and  she  was  trying  to 


124  ELBOW-ROOM. 


\ 


put  away  a  fence-paling.  The  butcher  said  she  was 
a  fair-enough  sort  of  cow,  but  she  was  too  thin.  He 
said  he  would  buy  her  if  the  judge  would  feed  her 
up  and  fatten  her;  and  the  judge  said  he  would  try. 
He  gave  her  that  night  food  enough  for  four  cows, 
and  she  consumed  it  as  if  she  had  been  upon  half 
rations  for  a  month.  When  she  finished,  she  got  up, 
reached  for  the  hired  man's  straw  hat,  ate  it,  and  then, 
bolting  out  into  the  garden,  she  put  away  the  honey 
suckle  vine  and  a  coil  of  India-rubber  hose.  The 
man  said  that  if  it  was  his  cow  he  would  kill  her ; 
and  the  judge  told  him  that  he  had  perhaps  better 
just  knock  her  on  the  head  in  the  morning. 

During  the  night  she  had  another  attack  of  som 
nambulism,  and  while  wandering  about  she  ate  the 
door-mat  from  the  front  porch,  bit  off  all  the  fancy- 
work  on  top  of  the  cast-iron  gate,  swallowed  six 
loose  bricks  that  were  piled  up  against  the  house, 
and  then  had  a  fit  among  the  rose  bushes.  When 
the  judge  came  down  in  the  morning,  she  seemed  to 
be  breathing  her  last,  but  she  had  strength  enough 
left  to  seize  a  newspaper  that  the  judge  held  in  his 
hand;  and  when  that  was  down,  she  gave  three  or 
four  kicks  and  rolled  over  and  expired.  It  cost  the 
judge  three  dollars  to  have  the  carcase  removed. 
Since  then  he  has  bought  his  butter  and  milk  and 
given  up  all  kinds  of  live-stock. 


CHAPTER   X. 

OUR  CIVIL  SERVICE. 

[OME  of  the  public  officers  of  Millburg  are 
interesting  in  their  way.  The  civil  ser 
vice  system  of  the  village  is  based  upon 
the  principle  that  if  there  is  any  particular 
function  that  a  given  man  is  wholly  unfitted  to  per 
form  he  should  be  chosen  to  perform  it.  The  result 
is  that  the  business  of  our  very  small  government 
goes  plunging  along  in  the  most  surprising  manner, 
with  a  promise  that  it  will  end  some  day  in  chaos 
and  revolution — of  course  upon  a  diminutive  scale. 

A  representative  man  is  Mr.  Bones,  the  solitary 
night-watchman  of  the  town.  One  of  the  duties  of 
Mr.  Bones  is  to  light  the  street-lamps.  It  is  an  ope 
ration  which  does  not  require  any  very  extraordi 
nary  effort  of  the  intellect;  but  during  a  part  of  the 
summer  the  mind  of  Mr.  Bones  did  not  seem  to  be 
equal  to  the  strain  placed  upon  it  by  this  duty.  It 
was  observed  that  whenever  there  were  bright  moon 
light  nights  Mr.  Bones  would  have  all  the  lamps 
burning  from  early  in  the  evening  until  dawn,  while 
upon  the  nights  when  there  was  no  moon  he  would 
not  light  them  at  all,  and  the  streets  would  be  as 

125 


126  ELBOW-ROOM. 

dark  as  tar.  At  last  people  began  to  complain  about 
it,  and  one  day  one  of  the  supervisors  called  to  see 
Mr.  Bones  about  it.  He  remarked  to  him, 

"  Mr.  Bones,  people  are  finding  fault  because  you 
light  up  on  moonlight  nights  and  don't  light  the 
lamps  when  it  is  dark.  I'd  like  you  to  manage  the 
thing  a  little  better." 

"  It  struck  me  as  being  singular,  too,  but  I  can't 
help  it.  I've  got  instructions  to  follow  the  almanac, 
and  I'm  going  to  follow  it." 

"  Did  the  almanac  say  there'd  be  no  moon  last 
night  ?" 

"  Yes,  it  did." 

"  Well,  the  moon  was  shining,  though,  and  at  its 
full." 

"  I  know,"  said  Mr.  Bones,  "  and  that's  what  gits 
me.  How  in  the  thunder  the  moon  kin  shine  when 
the  almanac  says  it  won't  beats  me  out.  Perhaps 
there's  something  the  matter  with  the  moon ;  got 
shoved  off  her  course  may  be." 

"  I  guess  not." 

"  Well,  it's  changed  off  somehow,  and  I've  got  to 
have  something  regular  to  go  by.  I'm  going  by 
what  the  almanac  says;  and  if  the  moon's  going  to 
shuffle  around  kinder  loose  and  not  foller  the  al 
manac,  that's  its  lookout.  If  the  almanac  says  no 
moon,  then  I'm  bound  to  light  the  lamps  if  there's 
millions  of  moons  shining  in  the  sky.  Them's  my 
orders,  and  I'll  mind  'em." 

"  How  d'you  know  the  almanac  is  not  wrong  ?" 


OUR   CIVIL   SERVICE.  12? 

"  Because  I  know  it  ain't.  It  was  always  right 
before." 

"  Let's  look  at  it." 

"  There  it  is.  Look  there,  now.  Don't  it  say  full 
moon  on  the  2Oth  ?  and  this  yer's  only  the  9th,  and 
yet  it's  full  moon  now." 

"  That's  so ;  and —  Er — er —  Less —  see  Er-er — 
Mr.  Bones,  do  you  know  what  year  this  almanac  is 
for?" 

"Why,  1876,  of  course." 

"  No,  it  isn't;  it's  for  1866.     It's  ten  years  old." 

"Oh  no!  1866!  Well,  now,  it  is.  I  declare! 
1866!  Why,  merciful  Moses!  I  got  the  wrong 
one  off  the  shelf,  and  I've  been  depending  on  it  for 
three  months  !  No  wonder  the  lamps  was  wrong. 
Well,  that  beats  everything." 

Then  Mr.  Bones  tore  up  the  almanac  and  got  one 
for  1876,  and  ever  since  that  time  the  lamp-lighting 
department  has  given  tolerable  satisfaction. 

But  it  is  as  a  night-watchman  that  Mr.  Bones 
shines  with  surpassing  splendor.  When  he  first 
entered  the  service,  he  was  very  anxious  to  make  a 
good  impression  on  Colonel  Coffin,  the  burgess  and 
head  of  the  village  government ;  and  the  first  night 
upon  which  he  went  on  duty  Colonel  Coffin  was 
awakened  about  half-past  twelve  by  a  furious  ring 
at  his  door-bell.  He  looked  out  of  the  window  and 
perceived  the  watchman,  who  said, 

"  She's  all  right.  Nobody's  broke  in.  I've  got 
my  eye  on  things.  You  kin  depend  on  me." 


128  ELBOW-ROOM. 

The  colonel  thought  he  was  one  of  the  most  faith 
ful  watchmen  he  ever  saw,  and  he  returned  serenely 
to  bed.  On  the  following  night,  just  after  twelve, 
there  was  another  energetic  ring  at  the  bell ;  and  when 
the  burgess  raised  the  window,  the  watchman  said, 

"  Your  girls  ain't  left  the  window-shutters  open 
and  the  house  is  not  afire.  All  right  as  a  trivet  while 
I'm  around,  you  bet!" 

"  Louisa,"  said  the  colonel  to  his  wife  as  he  re 
turned  to  his  couch,  "  that  is  a  splendid  watchman, 
but  I  think  he's  just  the  least  bit  too  enthusiastic." 

A  couple  of  nights  later,  when  the  door-bell  rang 
at  half-past  one,  the  colonel  felt  somewhat  angry,  and 
he  determined  to  stay  in  bed ;  but  the  person  on  the 
step  below  at  last  began  to  kick  against  the  front 
door,  when  the  colonel  threw  up  the  window  and  ex 
claimed, 

"  What  do  you  want  ?" 

It  was  the  watchman,  and  he  said, 

"You  know  old  Mrs.  Biles  up  the  street  yer? 
Well,  I've  just  rung  Biles  up,  and  he  says  her  rheum 
atism  ain't  no  better.  Thought  you  might  want 
to  know,  so  I  called.  I  felt  kinder  lonesome  out 
here,  too." 

As  Colonel  Coffin  slammed  the  sash  down  he  felt 
mad  and  murderous.  The  next  night,  however,  that 
faithful  guardian  applied  the  toe  of  his  boot  to  the 
front  door  with  such  energy  that  the  colonel  leaped 
from  bed,  and  protruding  his  head  from  the  window 
said, 


OUR   CIVIL   SERVICE.  I2g 

"  I  wish  to  gracious  you'd  stop  kicking  up  this 
kind  of  fuss  around  here  every  night !  What  do 
you  mean,  anyhow?" 

"  Why,  I  only  stopped  to  tell  you  that  Butterwick 
has  two  setter  pups,  and  that  I'd  get  you  one  if  you 
wanted  it.  Nothing  mean  about  that,  is  there  ?" 

The  colonel  uttered  an  ejaculatory  criticism  upon 
Butterwick  and  the  pups  as  he  closed  the  window, 
and  a  moment  later  he  heard  the  watchman  call  up 
Smith,  who  lives  next  door,  and  remark  to  him, 

"  They  tell  me  it's  a  splendid  season  for  bananas, 
Mr.  Smith." 

When  Coffin  heard  Smith  hurling  objurgations 
about  bananas  and  watchmen  out  upon  the  midnight 
air,  he  knew  it  was  immoral,  but  he  felt  his  heart 
warm  toward  Smith.  The  next  time  the  watchman 
tried  to  get  the  colonel  out  by  ringing  and  kicking 
the  colonel  refused  to  respond,  and  finally  the  watch 
man  banged  five  barrels  of  his  revolver.  Then  Coffin 
came  to  the  window  in  a  rage. 

"  You  eternal  idiot,"  he  said,  "  if  you  don't  stop 
this  racket  at  night,  I'll  have  you  put  under  bonds 
to  keep  the  peace." 

"  Oh,  all  right,"  replied  the  watchman.  "  I  had 
something  important  to  tell  you  ;  but  if  you  don't 
want  to  hear  it,  very  well ;  I  kin  keep  it  to  myself." 

"  Well,  what  is  it  ?     Out  with  it !" 

"  Why,  I  heard  to-day  that  the  kangaroo  down  at 
the  Park  in  the  city  can't  use  one  of  its  hind  legs. 
Rough  on  the  Centennial,  ain't  it  ?" 

9 


130  ELBOW-ROOM. 

Then,  as  the  colonel  withdrew  in  a  condition  of  aw 
ful  rage,  the  watchman  sauntered  up  the  street  to  break 
the  news  to  the  rest  of  the  folks.  On  the  next  night 
a  gang  of  burglars  broke  into  Coffin's  house  and  ran 
sacked  it  from  top  to  bottom.  Toward  morning 
Coffin  heard  them  ;  and  hastily  dressing  himself  and 
seizing  his  revolver,  he  proceeded  down  stairs.  The 
burglars  heard  him  coming  and  fled.  Then  the 
colonel  sprang  his  rattle  and  summoned  the  neigh 
bors.  When  they  arrived,  the  colonel,  in  the  course 
of  conversation,  made  some  remarks  about  the  per 
fect  uselessness  of  night-watchmen.  Thereupon  Mr. 
Potts  said, 

"  I  saw  that  fellow  Bones  only  an  hour  ago  two 
squares  above  here,  at  McGinnis's,  routing  McGinnis 
out  to  tell  him  that  old  cheese  makes  the  best  bait 
for  catfish." 

Mr.  Bones  was  reprimanded,  but  he  remained  upon 
what  is  facetiously  known  as  "  the  force."  The  bor 
ough  cannot  afford  to  dispense  with  the  services  of 
such  an  original  genius  as  he. 

Our  sheriff  is  a  man  of  rather  higher  intelligence, 
but  he  also  has  a  singular  capacity  for  perpetrating 
dreadful  blunders.  Over  in  the  town  of  Nocka- 
mixon  one  of  the  churches  last  year  called  a  clergy 
man  named  Rev.  Joseph  Striker.  In  the  same 
place,  by  a  most  unfortunate  coincidence,  resides 
also  a  prize-fighter  named  Joseph  Striker,  and  ru 
mors  were  afloat  a  few  weeks  ago  that  the  latter 
Joseph  was  about  to  engage  in  a  contest  with  a  Jer- 


OUR   CIVIL   SERVICE.  131 

sey  pugilist  for  the  championship.  Our  sheriff  con 
sidered  it  his  duty  to  warn  Joseph  against  the  pro 
posed  infraction  of  the  laws,  and  so  he  determined 
to  call  upon  the  professor  of  the  art  of  self-defence. 
Unhappily,  in  inquiring  the  way  to  the  pugilist's 
house,  somebody  misunderstood  the  sheriff,  and  sent 
him  to  the  residence  of  the  Rev.  Joseph  Striker,  of 
whom  he  had  never  heard.  When  Mr.  Striker  en 
tered  the  room  in  answer  to  the  summons,  the  sheriff 
said  to  him  familiarly, 

"  Hello,  Joe  !     How  are  you  ?" 

Mr.  Striker  was  amazed  at  this  address,  but  he 
politely  said, 

"  Good-morning." 

"  Joe,"  said  the  sheriff,  throwing  his  leg  lazily  over 
the  arm  of  the  chair,  "  I  came  round  here  to  see  you 
about  that  mill  with  Harry  Dingus  that  they're  all 
talking  about.  I  want  you  to  understand  that  it 
can't  come  off  anywheres  around  here.  You  know 
well  enough  it's  against  the  law,  and  I  ain't  a-going 
to  have  it." 

"  Mill !  Mill,  sir  ?  What  on  earth  do  you  mean  ?" 
asked  Mr.  Striker,  in  astonishment.  "  I  do  not  own 
any  mill,  sir.  Against  the  law !  I  do  not  under 
stand  you,  sir." 

"  Now,  see  here,  Joe,"  said  the  sheriff,  biting  off  a 
piece  of  tobacco  and  looking  very  wise,  "  that  won't 
go  down  with  me.  It's  pretty  thin,  you  know.  I 
know  well  enough  that  you've  put  up  a  thousand 
dollars  on  that  little  affair,  and  that  you've  got  the 


132  ELBOW-ROOM. 

whole  thing  fixed,  with  Bill  Martin  for  referee.  I 
know  you're  going  down  to  Pea  Patch  Island  to  have 
it  out,  and  I'm  not  going  to  allow  it.  I'll  arrest  you 
as  sure  as  a  gun  if  you  try  it  on,  now  mind  me !" 

"  Really,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Striker,  "  there  must  be 
some  mistake  about — " 

"  Oh  no,  there  isn't ;  your  name's  Joe  Striker,  isn't 
it  ?"  asked  the  sheriff. 

"  My  name  is  Joseph  Striker,  certainly." 

"  I  knew  it,"  said  the  sheriff,  spitting  on  the  car 
pet;  "and  you  see  I've  got  this  thing  dead  to  rights. 
It  sha'n't  come  off;  and  I'm  doing  you  a  favor  in 
blocking  the  game,  because  Harry'd  curl  you  all  up 
any  way  if  I  let  you  meet  him.  I  know  he's  the  best 
man,  and  you'd  just  lose  your  money  and  get  all 
bunged  up  besides ;  so  you  take  my  advice  now,  and 
quit.  You'll  be  sorry  if  you  don't." 

"  I  do  not  know  what  you  are  referring  to,"  said 
Mr.  Striker.  "  Your  remarks  are  incomprehensible 
to  me,  but  your  tone  is  very  offensive ;  and  if  you 
have  any  business  with  me,  I'd  thank  you  to  state  it 
at  once." 

"Joe,"  said  the  sheriff,  looking  at  him  with  a  be 
nign  smile,  "you  play  it  pretty  well.  Anybody'd 
think  you  were  innocent  as  a  lamb.  But  it  won't 
work,  Joseph — it  won't  work,  I  tell  you.  I've  got 
a  duty  to  perform,  and  I'm  going  to  do  it;  and  I 
pledge  you  my  word,  if  you  and  Dingus  don't  knock 
off  now,  I'll  arrest  you  and  send  you  up  for  ten  years 
as  sure  as  death.  I'm  in  earnest  about  it." 


OUR   CIVIL  SERVICE.  133 

"What  do  you  mean,  sir?"  asked  Mr.  Striker, 
fiercely. 

"Oh,  don't  you  go  to  putting  on  any  airs  about  it. 
Don't  you  try  any  strutting  before  me,"  said  the 
sheriff,  "or  I'll  put  you  under  bail  this  very  after 
noon.  Let's  see  :  how  long  were  you  in  jail  the  last 
time?  Two  years,  wasn't  it ?  Well,  you  go  fighting 
with  Dingus  and  you'll  get  ten  years  sure." 

"  You  are  certainly  crazy!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Striker. 

"  I  don't  see  what  you  want  to  stay  at  that  busi 
ness  for,  anyhow,"  said  the  sheriff.  "  Here  you  are, 
in  a  snug  home,  where  you  might  live  in  peace  and 
keep  respectable.  But  no,  you  must  associate  with 
low  characters,  and  go  to  stripping  yourself  naked  and 
jumping  into  a  ring  to  get  your  nose  blooded  and 
your  head  swelled  and  your  body  hammered  to  a 
jelly ;  and  all  for  what  ?  Why,  for  a  championship ! 
It's  ridiculous.  What  good'll  it  do  you  if  you're 
champion  ?  Why  don't  you  try  to  be  honest  and 
decent,  and  let  prize-fighting  alone  ?" 

"This  is  the  most  extraordinary  conversation  I 
ever  listened  to,"  said  Mr.  Striker.  "  You  evidently 
take  me  for  a — " 

"  I  take  you  for  Joe  Striker ;  and  if  you  keep  on, 
I'll  take  you  to  jail,"  said  the  sheriff,  with  emphasis. 
"  Now,  you  tell  me  who's  got  those  stakes  and  who's 
your  trainer,  and  I'll  put  an  end  to  the  whole  thing." 

"  You  seem  to  imagine  that  I  am  a  pugilist,"  said 
Mr.  Striker.  "  Let  me  inform  you,  sir,  that  I  am  a 
clergyman." 


134  ELBOW-ROOM. 

"  Joe,"  said  the  sheriff,  shaking  his  head,  "  it's  too 
bad  for  you  to  lie  that  way — too  bad,  indeed." 

"  But  I  am  a  clergyman,  sir — pastor  of  the  church 
of  St.  Sepulchre.  Look !  here  is  a  letter  in  my 
pocket  addressed  to  me." 

"  You  don't  really  mean  to  say  that  you're  a 
preacher  named  Joseph  Striker  ?"  exclaimed  the 
sheriff,  looking  scared. 

"Certainly  I  am.  Come  up  stairs  and  I'll  show 
you  a  barrelful  of  my  sermons." 

"  Well,  if  this  don't  beat  Nebuchadnezzar !"  said 
the  sheriff.  "  This  is  awful !  Why,  I  mistook  you 
for  Joe  Striker,  the  prize-fighter !  I  don't  know  how 
I  ever —  A  preacher !  What  an  ass  I've  made  of 
myself!  I  don't  know  how  to  apologize ;  but  if  you 
want  to  kick  me  down  the  front  steps,  just  kick 
away ;  I'll  bear  it  like  an  angel." 

Then  the  sheriff  withdrew  unkicked,  and  Mr. 
Striker  went  up  stairs  to  finish  his  Sunday  sermon. 
The  sheriff  talked  of  resigning,  but  he  continues  to 
hold  on. 

Mr.  Slingsby,  our  assessor  and  tax-collector,  holds 
on  too.  He  is  another  model  member  of  our  civil 
service.  The  principal  characteristic  of  Mr.  Slingsby 
is  enthusiasm.  He  has  an  idea  that  whenever  a  man 
gets  anything  new  it  ought  to  be  taxed,  and  he  is 
always  on  hand  to  perform  the  service.  I  had  about 
fifteen  feet  added  to  one  of  my  chimneys  last  spring; 
and  when  it  was  done,  Slingsby  called  and  assessed 


OUR   CIVIL   SERVICE.  135 

it,  under  the  head  of  "improved  real  estate,"  at 
eighty  dollars,  and  collected  two  per  cent,  on  it.  A 
few  days  later,  while  I  was  standing  by  the  fence, 
Slingsby  came  up  and  said, 

"  Beautiful  dog  you  have  there." 

"  Yes ;  it's  a  setter." 

"  Indeed  !  A  setter,  hey  ?  The  tax  on  setters  is 
two  dollars.  I'll  collect  it  now,  while  I  have  it  on 
my  mind." 

I  settled  the  obligation,  and  the  next  day  Slingsby 
came  around  again.  He  opened  the  conversation 
with  the  remark, 

"  Billy  Jones  told  me  down  at  the  grocery-store 
that  your  terrier  had  had  pups." 

"  Yes." 

"  A  large  litter  ?" 

"  Four." 

"  Indeed !  Less  see  :  tax  is  two  dollars ;  four 
times  two  is  eight — yes,  eight  dollars  tax,  please. 
And  hurry  up,  too,  if  you  can,  for  they  have  a  new 
batch  of  kittens  over  at  Baldwin's,  and  I  want  to 
ketch  old  Baldwin  before  he  goes  out.  By  the  way, 
when  did  you  put  that  weathercock  on  your  stable  ?" 

"  Yesterday." 

"  You  don't  say !  Well,  hold  on,  then.  Four 
times  two  is  eight,  and  four — on  the  weathercock, 
you  know — is  twelve.  Twelve  dollars  is  the  exact 
amount." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  four  dollars  tax  on  a 
weathercock  ?  I  never  heard  of  such  a  thing." 


136  ELBOW-ROOM. 

"  Didn't,  hey  ?  Why,  she  comes  in  under  the  head 
of  '  scientific  apparatus.'  She's  put  up  there  to  tell 
which  way  the  wind  blows,  ain't  she  ?  Well,  that's 
scientific  intelligence,  and  the  apparatus  is  liable  to 
tax." 

"  Mr.  Slingsby,  that  is  the  most  absurd  thing  I 
ever  heard  of.  You  might  just  as  well  talk  of  tax 
ing  Butterwick's  twins." 

"  Butter —  You  don't  mean  to  say  Butterwick 
has  twins  ?  Why,  certainly  they're  taxable.  They 
come  in  under  the  head  of  '  poll-tax.'  Three  dollars 
apiece.  I'll  go  right  down  there.  Glad  you  men 
tioned  it."  Then  I  paid  him,  and  he  left  with  Butter- 
wick's  twins  on  his  memorandum-book. 

A  day  or  two  afterward  Mr.  Slingsby  called  to  see 
me,  and  he  said, 

"  I've  got  a  case  that  bothers  me  like  thunder.  You 
know  Hough  the  tobacconist?  Well,  he's  just 
bought  a  new  wooden  Indian  to  stand  in  front  of  his 
store.  Now,  I  have  a  strong  feeling  that  I  ought  to 
tax  that  figure,  but  I  don't  know  where  to  place  it. 
Would  it  come  in  as  '  statuary '  ?  Somehow  that 
don't  seem  exactly  the  thing.  I  was  going  to  assess 
it  under  the  head  of  '  idols,'  but  the  idiots  who  got 
up  this  law  haven't  got  a  word  in  in  reference  to 
idols.  Think  of  that,  will  you  ?  Why,  we  might 
have  paganism  raging  all  over  this  country,  and  we 
couldn't  get  a  cent  out  of  them.  I'd  a  put  that 
Indian  under  '  graven  images,'  only  they  ain't  men 
tioned,  either.  I  s'pose  I  could  tax  the  bundle  of 


OUR   CIVIL   SERVICE.  137 

wooden  cigars  in  his  fist  as  '  tobacco/  but  that  leaves 
out  the  rest  of  the  figure ;  and  he's  not  liable  to  poll- 
tax  because  he  can't  even  vote.  Now,  how  would  it 
strike  you  if  I  levied  on  him  as  an  'immigrant'? 
He  was  made  somewheres  else  than  here,  and  he 
came  here  from  there,  consequently  he's  an  immi 
grant.  That's  my  view.  What  do  you  think  of  it  ?" 
I  advised  him  to  try  it  upon  that  plan,  and  the 
next  morning  Mr.  Slingsby  and  Mr.  Hough  had  a 
fight  on  the  pavement  in  front  of  the  Indian  because 
Mr.  Slingsby  tried  to  seize  the  immigrant  for  unpaid 
taxes.  Slingsby  was  taken  home  and  put  to  bed,  and 
the  business  of  collecting  taxes  was  temporarily 
suspended.  But  Slingsby  will  be  around  again  soon 
with  some  new  and  ingenious  ideas  that  he  has 
thought  of  during  his  illness. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

FUNEREAL   AND   CONJUGAL. 

|RS.  BANGER  has  buried  four  husbands, 
and  her  experience  of  domestic  life  in 
their  company  was  so  satisfactory  that 
she  recently  married  a  fifth,  Mr.  Banger. 
The  name  of  her  fourth  was  McFadden.  The  name 
of  her  first  and  third  was  Smyth,  while  that  of  her 
second,  oddly  enough,  was  Smith.  Soon  after  her 
return  from  her  last  wedding-tour  she  was  visited  by 
Mr.  Toombs,  the  undertaker,  who  called  ostensibly  to 
correct  an  error  in  his  last  bill.  When  Mrs.  Banger 
entered  the  parlor,  Mr.  Toombs  greeted  her  cordially 
and  said, 

"  Ah !  Mrs.  Smy — Banger,  I  mean ;  I  hope  I  see 
you  well?  Did  you  have  a  pleasant  trip?  Nice 
weather  while  you  were  away  ;  a  little  backward, 
maybe,  but  still  comfortable,  and  likely  to  make 
things  grow.  Cemetery  looks  beautiful  now.  I  was 
out  there  to-day  to  a  burying.  Grass  is  coming  up 
charming  on  your  lot,  and  I  noticed  a  blackberry 
bush  growing  out  of  Mr.  Smyth's  grave.  He  was 

138 


FUNEREAL   AND   CONJUGAL.  139 

fond  of  'em,  I  reckon.  There  they  were  lying, 
Smith  and  Smyth,  and  McFadden  and  the  other 
Smyth,  all  four  of  them.  No  woman  could  have 
done  fairer  with  those  men  than  you  did,  ma'am; 
those  mahogany  coffins  with  silver-plated  handles 
were  good  enough  for  the  patriarchs  and  prophets, 
and  the  President  of  the  United  States  himself 
daren't  ask  anything  better  than  a  hearse  with  real 
ostrich  feathers  and  horses  that  are  black  as  ink  all 
over. 

"  I  know  when  we  laid  Mr.  McFadden  out  I  said 
to  Tim  Lafferty,  my  foreman,  that  the  affection  you 
showed  in  having  that  man  buried  in  style  almost 
made  me  cry ;  but  I  never  fully  realized  what  wo 
man's  love  really  is  till  you  made  me  line  Mr. 
Smith's  coffin  with  white  satin  and  let  in  a  French 
plate-glass  skylight  over  the  countenance.  That 
worked  on  my  feelings  so  that  I  pretty  near  forgot 
to  distribute  the  gloves  to  the  mourners.  And  Mr. 
Smith  was  worthy  of  it ;  he  deserved  it  all.  He  was 
a  man  all  over,  no  difference  how  you  looked  at 
him ;  stoutish,  maybe,  and  took  a  casket  that  was 
thick  through,  but  he  was  all  there,  and  I  know 
when  you  lost  him  it  worried  you  like  anything. 

"  Now,  it's  none  of  my  business,  Mrs.  Banger;  but 
casting  my  eye  over  those  graves  to-day,  it  struck 
me  that  I  might  fix  'em  up  a  little,  so's  they'd  be 
more  comfortable  like.  I  think  McFadden  wants  a 
few  sods  over  the  feet,  and  Smith's  headstone  has 
worked  a  little  out  of  plumb.  He's  settled  some, 


140  ELBOW-ROOM. 

I  s'pose.  I  think  I'd  straighten  it  up  and  put  a  gas- 
pipe  railing  around  Mr.  Smyth.  And  while  you're 
about  it,  Mrs.  Banger,  hadn't  you  better  buy  about 
ten  feet  beyond  Mr.  Smith,  so's  there  won't  be  any 
scrouging  when  you  bury  the  next  one?  I  like 
elbow-room  in  a  cemetery  lot,  and  I  pledge  you  my 
word  it'll  be  a  tight  squeeze  to  get  another  one  in 
there  and  leave  room  for  you  besides.  It  can't  be 
done  so's  to  look  anyways  right,  and  I  know  you 
don't  want  to  take  all  four  of  'em  out  and  make  'em 
move  up,  so's  to  let  the  rest  of  you  in.  Of  course 
it'd  cut  you  up,  and  it'd  cost  like  everything,  too. 

"  When  a  person's  dead  and  buried,  it's  the  fair 
thing  to  let  him  alone,  and  not  to  go  hustling  him 
around.  That's  my  view,  any  way ;  and  I  say  that  if 
I  was  you,  sooner  than  put  Mr.  Smith  on  top  of  Mc- 
Fadden  and  Smyth  on  top  of  Smith,  I'd  buy  in  the 
whole  reservation  and  lay  'em  forty  feet  apart. 

"  And  how  is  Mr.  Banger  ?  Seem  in  pretty  good 
health  ?  Do  you  think  we  are  to  have  him  with  us 
long  ?  I  hope  so ;  but  there's  consumption  in  his 
family,  I  believe.  Life  is  mighty  uncertain.  We 
don't  know  what  minute  we  may  be  called.  I'm  a 
forehanded  kind  of  man,  and  while  his  wedding-suit 
was  being  made  I  just  stepped  into- the  tailor's  and 
ran  it  over  with  a  tape-measure,  so's  to  get  some  idea 
of  his  size.  You'd  hardly  believe  it,  but  I've  got  a 
black  walnut  casket  at  the  shop  that'll  fit  him  as 
exact  as  if  it  had  been  built  for  him.  It  was  the 
luckiest  thing.  An  odd  size,  too,  and  wider  than  we 


FUNEREAL  AND   CONJUGAL.  14! 

generally  make  them.  I  laid  it  away  up  stairs  for 
him,  to  be  prepared  in  case  of  accident.  You've 
been  so  clever  with  me  that  I  feel  'sif  I  ought  to  try 
my  best  to  accommodate  you ;  and  I  know  how 
women  hate  to  bother  about  such  things  when  their 
grief  is  tearing  up  their  feelings  and  they  are  fretting 
about  getting  their  mourning  clothes  in  time  for  the 
funeral. 

"  And  that's  partly  what  I  called  to  see  you  about, 
Mrs.  McFa — Banger,  I  mean.  I've  got  a  note  to 
pay  in  the  morning,  and  the  man's  pushing  me  very 
hard ;  but  I'm  cleaned  right  out.  Haven't  got  a 
cent.  Now,  it  occurred  to  me  that  maybe  you'd 
advance  me  the  money  on  Mr.  Banger's  funeral  if 
I'd  offer  you  liberal  terms.  How  does  fifteen  per 
cent,  strike  you  ?  and  if  he  lives  for  six  or  seven 
years,  I'll  make  it  twenty.  Mind  you,  I  offer  the 
casket  and  the  best  trimmings,  eight  carriages,  the 
finest  hearse  in  the  county,  and  ice  enough  for  three 
days  in  the  swelteringest  weather  in  August.  And 
I  don't  mind — well — yes,  I'll  even  agree  to  throw  in 
a  plain  tombstone.  If  you  can  do  that  to  accommo 
date  a  friend,  why,  I'll —  No  ?  Don't  want  to  specu 
late  on  it  ?  Oh,  very  well ;  I'm  sorry,  because  I 
know  you'd  been  satisfied  with  the  way  I'd  have  ar 
ranged  things.  But  no  matter ;  I  s'pose  I  can  go 
round  and  borrow  elsewhere.  Good-morning ;  drop 
in  some  time,  and  I'll  show  you  that  casket." 

As  Toombs  was  going  out  he  met  Mr.  Banger  at 
the  door.  When  he  was  gone,  Banger  said, 


I42  ELBOW-ROOM. 

\ 

"  My  dear,  who  is  that  very  odd-looking  man  ?" 

And  Mrs.  Banger  hesitated  a  moment,  turned  very 
red,  and  answered, 

"  That  is — that  man  is — a — a — he  is,  I  believe — a 
— a — a — a  some  kind  of  a — an  undertaker." 

Then  Banger  looked  gloomy  and  went  up  stairs 
to  ponder.  But  Mrs.  Banger  felt  that  she  had  a  duty 
to  perform  in  taking  care  that  the  lot  in  the  cemetery 
should  not  fall  into  such  disorder  as  Mr.  Toombs 
had  indicated,  and  she  resolved  to  call  upon  Mr. 
Mix,  at  his  monumental  marble-works,  to  get  him 
to  attend  to  the  matter  for  her.  Mr.  Mix  did  not 
know  her,  and  his  ignorance  of  her  past  history 
turned  out  to  be  unfortunate.  The  following  con 
versation  occurred  between  them : 

Mrs.  Banger.  "  Mr.  Mix,  I  am  anxious  to  have 
my  cemetery  lot  fixed  up — to  put  in  new  tombstones 
and  reset  the  railing ;  and  I  called  to  see  if  I  could 
make  some  satisfactory  arrangement  with  you." 

Mix.  "  Certainly,  madam.  Tell  me  precisely  what 
it  is  you  want  done." 

Mrs.  B.  "Well,  I'd  like  to  have  a  new  tombstone 
put  over  the  grave  of  John  —  my  husband,  you 
know — and  to  have  a  nice  inscription  cut  in  it, 
'  Here  lies  John  Smyth/  etc.,  etc.  You  know  what 
I  mean ;  the  usual  way,  of  course,  and  maybe  some 
kind  of  a  design  on  the  stone  like  a  broken  rosebud 
or  something." 

Mix.  "  I  understand." 

Mrs.  B.  "  Well,  then,  what'll  you  charge  me  for 


FUNEREAL  AND  CONJUGAL.       143 

getting  up  a  headstone  just  like  that,  out  of  pretty 
good  white  marble,  and  with  a  little  picture  of  a 
torch  upside  down  or  a  weeping  angel  on  it,  and 
the  name  of  Thomas  Smith  cut  on  it?" 

Mix.  "  John  Smyth,  you  mean." 

Mrs.  B.  "  No,  I  mean  Thomas." 

Mix.  "  But  you  said  John  before." 

Mrs.  B.  "  I  know,  but  that  was  my  first  husband, 
and  Thomas  was  my  second,  and  I  want  a  new  head 
stone  for  each  of  them.  Now,  it  seems  to  me,  Mr. 
Mix,  that  where  a  person  is  buying  more  than  one, 
that  way,  you  ought  to  make  some  reduction  in  the 
price — throw  something  off.  Though,  of  course,  I 
want  a  pretty  good  article  at  all  the  graves.  Not 
anything  gorgeous,  but  neat  and  tasteful  and  calcu 
lated  to  please  the  eye.  Mr.  Smyth  was  not  a  man 
who  was  fond  of  show.  Give  him  a  thing  comfort 
able,  and  he  was  satisfied.  Now,  which  do  you  think 
is  the  prettiest,  to  have  the  name  in  raised  letters  in 
a  straight  line  over  the  top  of  the  stone,  or  just  to 
cut  the  words  '  Alexander  P.  Smyth '  in  a  kind  of  a 
semicircle  in  sunken  letters  ?" 

Mix.  "  Did  I  understand  you  to  say  Alexander 
P.?  Were  you  referring  to  John  or  Thomas  ?" 

Mrs.  B.  "  Of  course  not.  Aleck  was  my  third. 
I'm  not  going  to  neglect  his  grave  while  I'm  fixing 
up  the  rest.  I  wish  to  make  a  complete  job  of  it, 
Mr.  Mix,  while  I  am  about  it,  and  I'm  willing  for 
you  to  undertake  it  if  you  are  reasonable  in  your 
charges.  Now,  what'll  you  ask  me  for  the  lot, 


144 


ELBOW-ROOM. 


the  kind  I've  described,  plain  but  substantial,  and 
sunk  about  two  feet  I  should  think,  at  the  head  of 
each  grave?  What'll  you  charge  me  for  them — for 
the  whole  four  ?" 

Mix.  "  Well,  I'll   put  you    in   those  three  head 
stones — " 


Mrs.  B.  "Four  headstones,  Mr.  Mix,  not  three." 
Mix.  "  Four,  was    it  ?     No ;  there  was  John  and 

Thomas  and  Alexander  P.      That's  all  you  said,  I 

think.     Only  three." 


FUNEREAL   AND   CONJUGAL.  145 

Mrs.  B.  "  Why,  I  want  one  for  Adolph  too,  as 
a  matter  of  course,  the  same  as  the  others.  I 
thought  you  knew  I  wanted  one  for  Adolph,  one 
made  just  like  John's,  only  with  the  name  different. 
Adolph  was  my  fourth  husband.  He  died  about 
three  years  after  I  buried  Philip,  and  I'm  wearing 
mourning  for  him  now.  Now,  please  give  me  your 
prices  for  the  whole  of  them." 

Mix.  "  Well,  madam,  I  want  to  be  as  reasonable  as 
I  can,  and  I  tell  you  what  I'll  do.  You  give  me  all 
your  work  in  the  future,  and  I'll  put  you  in  those 
five  headstones  at  hardly  anything  above  cost ; 
say — " 

Mrs.  B.  "  Four  headstones,  not  five." 

Mix.  "  I  think  you  mentioned  five." 

Mrs.  B.  "  No  ;  only  four." 

Mix.  "  Less  see :  there  was  John,  and  Thomas 
and  Aleck,  and  Adolph  and  Philip." 

Mrs.  B.  "  Yes,  but  Aleck  and  Philip  were  the 
same  one.  His  middle  name  was  Philip,  and  I  al 
ways  called  him  by  it." 

Mix.  "  Mrs.  Banger,  I'll  be  much  obliged  to  you 
if  you'll  tell  me  precisely  how  many  husbands  you 
have  planted  up  in  that  cemetery  lot.  This  thing's 
getting  a  little  mixed." 

Mrs.  B.  "  What  do  you  mean,  sir,  by  saying  plant 
ed  ?  I  never  '  planted '  anybody.  It's  disgraceful  to 
use  such  language." 

Mix.  "  It's  a  technical  term,  madam.  We  al 
ways  use  it,  and  I  don't  see  as  it's  going  to  hurt  any 
10 


146  ELBOW-ROOM. 

old  row  of  fellows  named  Smyth.  Planted  is  good 
enough  for  other  men,  and  it's  good  enough  for 
them." 

Mrs.  B.  "  Old  row  of —  What  d'you  mean,  you 
impudent  vagabond  ?  I  wouldn't  let  you  put  a 
headstone  on  one  of  my  graves  if  you'd  do  it  for 
nothing." 

Then  Mrs.  Banger  flounced  out  of  the  shop,  and 
Mix  called  after  her  as  she  went  through  the  door, 

"  Lemme  know  when  you  go  for  another  man, 
and  I'll  throw  him  in  a  tombstone  for  a  wedding- 
present.  He'll  want  it  soon." 

Mrs.  Banger  subsequently  procured  the  services 
of  a  person  in  the  city,  and  she  regards  Mr.  Mix  with 
something  like  detestation. 

But  Mrs.  Banger  herself  is  not  universally  be 
loved.  Colonel  Coffin  knows  of  one  woman  who 
despises  her  methods  and  desires  her  complete  re 
pression.  A  short  time  after  the  election  of  the 
colonel  to  the  Legislature  a  lady  called  to  see  him 
at  his  law-office.  When  she  had  closed  the  door,  she 
sat  down  and  said, 

"  Colonel,  my  name  is  Mooney.  I  am  unmarried 
— a  single  woman.  I  called  to  see  you  in  reference 
to  pushing  a  bill  through  the  Legislature  for  the 
benefit  of  maiden  ladies  such  as  myself.  Let  me 
direct  your  attention  to  some  extraordinary  facts. 
Statistics  tell  us  that  in  the  entire  population  of  the 
world  there  are  one-fourth  more  women  than  men. 
In  this  country  the  proportion  of  women  to  men  is 


FUNEREAL  AND   CONJUGAL.  147 

slightly  larger.  In  this  State  there  are  two  and  one- 
eighth  women  to  every  man.  Now,  this  outrageous 
condition  of  affairs — " 

41  Excuse  me  for  a  moment,  madam,"  said  the  colo 
nel.  "  Really,  the  Legislature  can  do  nothing  to  im 
prove  the  matter.  It  cannot  regulate  the  proportion 
of  the  sexes  by  law." 

"  I  know  it,"  replied  Miss  Mooney.  "  That  is  not 
what  I  am  coming  at.  I  say  that  this  condition  of  af 
fairs  is  grossly  unjust.  If  I  had  had  the  management 
of  it,  and  had  been  compelled  to  arrange  that  there 
should  be  more  women  than  men,  I  certainly  should 
not  have  had  any  fractions.  There  are  not  only  two 
women  for  every  man,  but  an  eighth  of  a  woman  be 
sides,  so  that  ever  so  many  of  us  women  would  each 
belong  to  eight  different  men  if  a  fair  distribution 
were  made.  How  do  I  know,  for  instance,  that  an 
eighth  of  me  does  not  belong  to  you  ?  Why,  I  don't 
know  it ;  and  I  say  it's  awful." 

"  If  such  is  the  case,  madam,"  said  the  colonel,  "  I 
surrender  all  my  rights  without  waiting  for  a  legisla 
tive  enactment." 

"  Excuse  me,"  replied  Miss  Mooney,  "  but  you  do 
not  catch  the  drift  of  my  remarks.  Of  course,  while 
the  laws  against  bigamy  are  in  existence,  some  of 
those  women  can  never  be  married,  although  for  my 
part,  when  a  man  has  two  wives  and  an  eighth  of 
another  wife,  I  call  it  polygamy.  Well,  now,  the 
point  I  want  to  make  is  this :  When  more  than  half 
of  us  can't  marry,  it's  only  right  that  the  other  half 


148  ELBOW-ROOM. 

should  have  a  fair  chance.  There  are  not  men 
enough  to  go  round,  any  how,  and  for  gracious'  sake 
let's  make  them  go  as  far  as  they  honestly  will. 
Well,  then,  how'll  we  do  it?  How'll  we  make  an 
equitable  distribution  of  those  men  ?" 

"  Hanged  if  I  know,  madam.  The  Legislature 
daren't  meddle  with  them." 

"  I'll  tell  you  how  to  do  it.  Listen  to  me.  Shut 
down  on  the  widows.  You  hear  me !  Suppress  the 
widows.  Make  it  death  for  any  widow  to  marry 
again.  That's  my  remedy ;  and  there'll  never  be  any 
justice  till  it's  the  law.  Just  look  at  it!  When  a 
woman  has  been  married  once,  she's  had  more  than 
her  share  of  the  male  population  ;  she's  had  her  own 
share  and  the  share  of  another  woman  and  an  eighth. 
Is  it  right,  is  it  honorable,  for  that  woman  to  go 
and  marry  another  man,  and  take  the  share  of  two 
more  women  and  an  eighth?  I  say,  is  it  just  the 
thing?" 

"Well,  on  the  surface  it  does  look  a  little  crooked." 

"  Crooked  is  not  the  word.  Colonel  Coffin,  I 
know  these  widows.  I  have  had  my  eye  on  them. 
They've  got  a  way  of  bursting  into  a  man's  feelings 
and  walking  off  with  his  affections  that  fills  a  modest 
woman  like  me  with  gall  and  bitterness.  You  know 
Mrs.  Banger  ?  No  ?  Well,  now,  look  at  her,  f 'r 
instance.  First  she  married  Mr.  Smyth,  although 
what  on  earth  he  ever  saw  to  admire  about  her  I 
cannot  imagine.  That  was  her  allowance.  Having 
obtained  Smyth,  oughtn't  she  to  have  stood  back 


FUNEREAL  AND   CONJUGAL.  149 

and  given  some  other  woman  a  chance — now,  oughtn't 
she  ?" 

"  Really,  madam,  I  am  hardly  able  to  express  an 
opinion." 

"  But  no.  After  a  while  Smyth  succumbed.  He 
died.  She  entombed  him,  crying,  mind  you,  all  the 
time,  as  if,  having  lost  Smyth,  she  wanted  to  die  and 
join  Smyth  in  the  grave  and  in  Paradise.  But  no 
sooner  was  he  well  settled  than  she  began  to  flirt 
with  Mr.  Smith,  and  what  does  he  do  but  yield  to 
her  blandishments  and  marry  her  ?  Took  her,  and 
seemed  to  glory  in  it. 

"  Now,  you'd  Ve  thought  that  she'd  Ve  been  sat 
isfied  with  that,  when  she'd  got  the  share  of  four 
women  and  a  quarter.  But  pretty  soon,  as  luck 
would  have  it,  Smith,  died  and  she  hustled  him  into 
the  grave.  And  in  less  than  a  year  afterward  I  was 
amazed  to  hear  that  she  was  going  to  marry  another 
Smyth.  I  was  never  more  astonished  in  my  life. 
Positively  going  to  annex  a  third  man,  when  the 
supply  was  too  short  anyway.  Did  you  ever  hear 
of  such  impudence  ?  Did  you,  now  ?" 

"  I'll  think  it  over  and  see  if  I  can  remember." 

"  Well,  then,  I  thought  for  certain  now  that  woman 
would  knock  off  and  give  the  rest  of  us  some  kind 
of  a  chance ;  and  when  Smyth  was  killed  by  cholera 
and  interred,  it  never  entered  my  head  that  that 
widow'd  go  after  another  man.  But,  bless  your  soul ! 
she'd  hardly  got  into  second  mourning  before  she 
began  to  pursue  Mr.  McFadden,  and  got  him.  Now, 


150  ELBOW-ROOM. 

look  at  it.  One  woman,  no  better'n  I  am,  has  had 
the  property  of  eight  women  and  a  half,  and  here  I 
am  single  and  getting  on  in  life,  with  the  chances 
growing  absurdly  small.  No  civilized  country  ought 
to  tolerate  such  a  thing.  It's  worse  than  piracy. 
You  may  scuttle  a  ship  or  blow  her  up  or  run  her 
against  the  rocks,  and  no  great  harm  is  done,  because 
timber's  plenty  and  you  can  build  another  one.  But 
when  one  woman  scuttles  three  men  and  then  ties  to 
a  fourth,  what  are  you  going  to  do  about  it  ?  You 
can't  go  out  into  the  woods  and  chop  down  trees 
and  saw  them  up  and  tack  them  together  and  build 
a  man.  Now,  can  you  ?" 

"  That  seems  to  be  the  common  impression,  any 
way." 

"  Just  so.  And  I  want  you  to  pass  a  bill  through 
that  Legislature  to  make  it  a  felony  for  a  widow  to 
marry  again.  I've  drawn  up  a  draft  of  a  bill  and  I'll 
leave  it  with  you.  I've  made  it  retroactive,  so  that 
it  '11  bring  that  woman  Banger  up  with  a  short  turn 
and  send  her  after  Smith  and  the  others.  I  don't 
care  to  marry,  myself,  but  I  want  justice.  Are  you 
married  ?" 

"  Madam,  leave  the  bill  with  me  and  I  will 
examine  it." 

"  I  say  are  you  married  ?" 

"I — I — married  did  you  say?  Oh  yes.  I've 
been  married  for  ten  years." 

"  Very  well,  then ;  good-morning ;"  and  Miss 
Mooney  withdrew. 


FUNEREAL  AND   CONJUGAL.  !$! 

"  Thunder !"  exclaimed  the  colonel  as  he  shut  the 
door.  "  If  I'd  Ve  been  single,  I  believe  she'd  Ve  pro 
posed  on  the  spot." 

It  is  not  considered  likely  that  the  Mooney  anti- 
widow  bill  will  be  pushed  very  hard  in  the  Legisla 
ture  next  session. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

A  NEW  MRS.   TOODLES.—  POTTS'  ADVENTURES. 

|NE  evening  I  met  Mr.  Potts  out  upon  the 
turnpike,  taking  a  walk ;  and  I  joined  him. 
As  we  proceeded  he  became  rather  confi 
dential.  The  subject  of  the  mania  for 
collecting  bric-a-brac  came  up ;  and  after  an  expres 
sion  of  opinion  from  me  respecting  the  matter,  Mr. 
Potts  told  the  story  of  his  wife's  fondness  for  that 
kind  of  thing.  He  said, 

"  My  wife  is  the  most  infatuated  bric-a-brac  hunter 
I  ever  heard  of.  She's  an  uncommonly  fine  woman 
about  most  things ;  loves  her  children;  makes  splen 
did  pies ;  don't  fool  with  any  of  those  fan-dangling 
ways  women  have  of  fixing  their  hair ;  and  she's  an 
angel  for  temper.  But  she  beats  Mrs.  Toodles  for 
going  to  auctions.  She's  filled  my  house  with  the 
wildest  mess  of  bric-a-brac  and  such  stuff  you  ever 
came  across  outside  of  a  museum  of  natural  curi 
osities.  She's  spent  more  money  for  wrecks  that 
wouldn't  be  allowed  in  the  cellar  of  a  poor-house 
than'd  keep  a  family  in  comfort  for  years. 

"  You  know  Scudmore,  who   sold  out  the  other 

152 


A   NEW  MRS.   TOODLES.  153 

day  ?  She  was  there,  bidding  away  like  a  million 
aire.  Came  home  with  a  wagon-load  of  things — 
four  albata  tea-pots  without  lids  or  handles ;  two 
posts  of  a  bedstead  and  three  slats ;  a  couple  of 
churns  and  fourteen  second-hand  sun-bonnets,  and 
more  mournful  refuse  like  that.  Said  she  didn't 
intend  to  buy,  but  she  bid  on  them  to  run  them  up 
to  help  Mrs.  Scudmore,  and  the  auctioneer  knocked 
them  down  quicker'n  a  wink.  Said  it  was  '  Lot  47,' 
and  she  had  to  take  it  all.  And  she  said  maybe 
she  could  make  up  the  sua-bonnets  into  bibs  for 
the  baby  and  use  the  tea-pots  for  preserves.  She 
thought  she  might  make  a  pretty  fair  bedstead  out 
of  the  posts  by  propping  the  other  ends  on  a  chair ; 
and  she  said  it  was  a  lucky  thing  she  was  so  fore 
handed  about  those  churns,  because  she  might  have 
a  cow  knocked  down  to  her,  and  then  she  would  be 
all  ready  for  butter-making.  Mone'n  likely  she'll 
buy  some  old  steer  and  bring  him  home  while  she's 
rummaging  around  for  bric-a-brac. 

"  When  the  Paxtons  had  their  sale  in  January  she 
was  around  there,  of  course,  and  came  home  after 
dinner  with  the  usual  dismembered  furniture;  and 
when  I  said  to  her,  '  Emma,  why  under  Heaven  did 
you  buy  in  the  mud-dredge  and  the  sausage-stuffer?' 
she  said  she  thought  the  sausage-stuffer  would  do 
for  a  cannon  for  the  boys  on  the  Fourth  of  July,  and 
there  was  no  telling  if  Charley  wouldn't  want  to  be 
a  civil  engineer  when  he  grew  up,  and  perhaps  he'd 
get  a  contract  for  deepening  the  channel  of  the  river; 


154  ELBOW-ROOM. 

and  then  he'd  rise  up  and  bless  the  foresight  of  the 
mother  who'd  bought  a  mud-dredge  for  two  dollars 
and  saved  it  up  for  him. 

"  I  sold  that  scoop  on  Wednesday  for  old  iron  for 
fifteen  cents;  and  I'll  bang  the  head  off  of  Charley 
if  he  ever  goes  to  dredging  mud  or  playing  cannon 
with  the  sausage-stuffer.  I  won't  have  my  boys 
carrying  on  in  that  way. 

"  Over  there  at  Robinson's  sale  I  believe  she'd  've 
bid  on  the  whole  concern  if  I  hadn't  come  in  while 
she  was  going  it.  As  it  was,  she  bought  an  aneroid 
barometer,  three  dozen  iron  skewers,  a  sacking-bot 
tom  and  four  volumes  of  Eliza  Cook's  poems.  Said 
she  thought  those  volumes  were  some  kind  of  cook 
ery-books,  or  she  wouldn't  have  bid  on  them,  and 
the  barometer  would  be  valuable  to  tell  us  which  was 
north.  North,  mind  you !  She  thought  it  indicated 
the  points  of  the  compass.  And  yet  they  want  to 
let  women  vote!  I  threw  in  those  skewers  along 
with  the  mud-dredge,  and  she's  used  the  sacking- 
bottom  twice  to  patch  Charley's  pants ;  and  that's  all 
the  good  we  ever  got  out  of  that  auction. 

"  But  she  don't  care  for  utility ;  it's  simply  a  mania 
for  buying  things.  We  haven't  a  stove  in  the  house, 
and  yet  what  does  she  do  at  Murphy's  sale  but  bid 
on  sixty-two  feet  and  three  elbows  of  rusty  stove 
pipe  and  cart  it  home  with  four  debilitated  gingham 
umbrellas.  Said  the  umbrellas  were  a  bargain  be 
cause,  by  putting  in  new  covers  and  handles  and  a 
rib  here  and  there,  they  would  do  for  birthday  pres- 


A   NEW  MRS.    TOODLES.  155 

ents  for  her  aunts.  And  the  stovepipe  could  be  sent 
out  to  the  farm  to  be  put  around  the  peach  trees  to 
keep  the  cows  off.  How  in  thunder  she  was  ever 
going  to  get  a  stovepipe  around  a  peach  tree  never 
crossed  her  mind.  She  is  just  as  impractical  as  a 
baby. 

"  When  Bailey  had  the  auction  at  his  insurance 
office,  there  she  was,  and,  sure  enough,  that  after 
noon  she  landed  in  our  side  yard  with  Bailey's  poll- 
parrot  and  a  circular  saw.  It  amused  me.  She 
wanted  to  use  that  saw  as  a  dinner-gong,  but  it  was 
cracked,  and  so  she  has  turned  it  into  a  griddle  for 
muffins.  Bailey  had  taught  the  parrot  to  swear  so 
that  I  was  afraid  it'd  demoralize  Charley,  and  I  don't 
mind  telling  you  in  confidence  that  I  killed  it  by 
putting  bug-poison  in  a  water-cracker. 

"  Now,  I  see  there's  an  auction  advertised  for  Fri 
day  at  Peters' ;  and  Peters  has  a  pyramid  of  old 
tomato  cans  and  bric-a-brac  of  that  sort  piled  up  in 
his  back  yard.  Now,  you  see  if  that  woman  don't 
bid  on  those  cans  until  she  runs  them  up  to  a  dollar 
apiece,  and  then  come  lugging  them  around  to  our 
house  with  some  extraordinary  idea  about  loading 
them  up  with  gunpowder  and  selling  them  to  the 
government  during  the  next  war  for  bombshells.  If 
she  does,  that  winds  the  thing  up.  I'm  a  good-na 
tured  man,  but  no  woman  shall  bring  home  three 
hundred  tomato  cans  to  my  house  and  retain  a  claim 
upon  my  affections.  I'll  resign  first." 

My  feeling  was  that  he  was  a  little  mixed  in  his 


156  ELBOW-ROOM. 

notions  about  bric-a-brac,  but  that  he  really  had  a 
grievance. 

Potts  told  me,  also,  that  he  came  home  very  late 
one  night  recently,  and  when  he  went  up  stairs  his 
wife  and  children  were  in  bed  asleep.  He  undressed 
as  softly  as  he  could,  and  then,  as  he  felt  thirsty,  he 
thought  he  would  get  a  drink  of  water.  Fortunately, 
he  saw  a  gobletful  standing  on  the  washstand,  placed 
there  for  him,  evidently,  by  Mrs.  Potts.  He  seized 
it  and  drank  the  liquid  in  two  or  three  huge  gulps, 
but  just  as  he  was  draining  the  goblet  he  gagged, 
dropped  the  glass  to  the  floor,  where  it  was  shivered 
to  atoms,  while  he  ejected  something  from  his  mouth. 
He  was  certain  that  a  live  animal  of  some  kind  had 
been  in  the  water,  and  that  he  had  nearly  swallowed 
it.  This  theory  was  confirmed  when  he  saw  the 
object  which  he  spat  out  go  bounding  over  the  floor. 
He  pursued  it,  kicking  a  couple  of  chairs  over  while 
doing  so,  and  at  last  he  put  his  foot  on  it  and  held 
it.  Of  course  Mrs.  Potts  was  wide  awake  by  this 
time  and  scared  nearly  to  death,  and  the  baby  was 
screaming  at  the  top  of  its  lungs.  Mrs.  Potts  got 
out  of  bed  and  turned  up  the  gas,  and  said, 

"  Mr.  Potts,  what  in  the  name  of  common  sense  is 
the  matter  ?" 

"  It's  a  mouse !"  shouted  Potts,  in  an  excited 
manner.  "  It's  a  mouse  in  the  goblet.  I  nearly 
swallowed  it,  but  I  spat  it  out,  and  now  I've  got  my 
foot  on  it.  Get  a  stick  and  kill  it,  quick !" 


POTTS'    ADVENTURES. 


157 


Mrs.  Potts  was  at  first  disposed  to  jump  on  a  chair 
and  scream,  for,  like  all  women,  she  feared  a  mouse 
very  much  more  than  she  did  a  tiger.  But  at  Potts' 
solicitation  she  got  the  broom  and  prepared  to  de 
molish  the  mouse  when  Potts  lifted  his  foot.  He 
drew  back,  and  she  aimed  a  fearful  blow  at  the  ob 
ject  and  missed  it.  Then,  as  it  did  not  move,  she 
took  a  good  look  at  it.  Then  she  threw  down  the 
broom,  and  after  casting  a  look  of  scorn  at  Potts, 
she  said, 

"  Come  to  bed,  you  old  fool !  that's  not  a  mouse." 


158  ELBOW-ROOM. 

"  What  d'you  mean  ?" 

"Why,  you  simpleton,  that's  the  baby's  India- 
rubber  bottle-top  that  I  put  in  the  goblet  to  keep  it 
sweet.  You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself  car 
rying  on  in  this  manner  at  one  o'clock  in  the 
morning." 

Then  Potts  turned  in.  After  this  he  will  drink  at 
the  pump. 

In  the  course  of  the  conversation  I  remarked  that 
I  had  seen  some  men  fixing  Potts'  roof  recently ;  and 
when  I  asked  Potts  if  anything  was  the  matter,  he 
said, 

"  My  roof  was  shingled  originally ;  but  as  it  leaked, 
I  had  the  shingles  removed  and  a  gravel-and-felt 
roof  put  on.  The  first  night  after  it  was  finished 
there  was  a  very  high  wind,  which  blew  the  gravel 
off  with  such  force  that  it  broke  thirty-four  panes  of 
glass  in  Butterwick's  house,  next  door.  The  wind 
also  tore  up  the  felt  and  blew  it  over  the  edge,  so 
that  it  hung  down  over  the  front  of  the  house  like  a 
curtain.  Of  course  it  made  the  rooms  pitch-dark, 
and  I  did  not  get  up  until  one  o'clock  in  the  after 
noon,  but  lay  there  wondering  how  it  was  the  night 
seemed  so  long. 

"  Then  I  had  a  tin  roof  put  on,  and  it  did  well 
enough  for  a  while.  But  whenever  there  was  a 
heavy  rain  or  the  wind  was  high,  it  used  to  rattle  all 
night  with  a  noise  like  the  battle  of  Gettysburg.  At 
last  it  began  to  leak,  and  a  tinner  sent  a  man  around 


POTTS'   ADVENTURES.  I  59 

to  find  the  hole.  He  spent  a  week  on  that  roof,  and 
he  spread  half  a  ton  of  solder  over  it,  but  still  it 
leaked.  And  finally,  when  the  snow  came,  the  water 
trickled  down  the  wall  and  ran  into  an  eight-hundred- 
dollar  piano,  which  will  be  closed  out  at  a  low  figure 
to  anybody  who  wants  mahogany  kindling-wood. 
When  the  tin  was  removed  and  the  new  slate  roof 
was  put  on,  the  slates  used  to  get  loose  and  slide 
down  on  the  head  of  the  hired  girl  while  she  was 
hanging  up  the  clothes.  And  when  the  man  came 
to  replace  the  slates,  he  plunged  off  the  roof  and 
broke  four  ribs  and  his  leg,  whereupon  he  sued  me 
for  damages.  And  while  the  case  was  pending  in 
court  a  snow-storm  came.  The  snow  blew  in  under 
the  slates,  and  my  oldest  boy  spent  the  day  with 
some  of  his  friends  snow-balling  and  sledding  in  the 
garret.  Then  the  snow  on  the  garret  floor  melted 
and  wet  the  wall-paper  down  stairs,  so  that  the  house 
became  frightfully  damp,  and  we  had  to  move  over 
to  the  hotel  for  a  fortnight. 

"  Then  I  tried  the  '  Patent  Incombustible  '  roofing, 
because  the  man  said  it  would  not  only  keep  out  the 
rain,  but  it  was  perfectly  fireproof.  A  week  after  it 
was  on,  Butterwick's  stable  caught  fire  and  flung  up 
a  great  many  sparks.  All  the  houses  in  the  neigh 
borhood,  however,  escaped — all  except  mine.  My 
roof  was  in  flames  before  the  stable  was  done  burn 
ing  ;  and  when  the  firemen  had  put  it  out,  they  got 
to  fighting  on  my  front  stairs,  with  the  result  that 
the  banister  was  broken  to  splinters,  a  two-inch  stream 


l6o  ELBOW-ROOM. 

was  played  into  the  parlor  for  fifteen  minutes,  and 
Chief  Engineer  Johnson  bled  all  over  our  best  carpet. 
"  I  have  the  '  Impervious  Cement  Roof  on  now, 
and  it  seems  to  do  well  enough,  excepting  that  it 
isn't  impervious.  It  lets  in  the  water  at  eight  differ 
ent  places ;  and  whenever  there  is  a  shower,  I  have  to 
rush  my  family  out  on  the  roof  to  shelter  it  with 
umbrellas.  I  fully  expect  it  will  explode  some  night, 
or  do  some  other  deadly  and  infamous  thing.  I  am 
going  to  put  the  house  up  at  auction  and  live  in  a 
circus  tent." 

They  had  a  big  excitement  over  at  Potts'  the  other 
day  about  their  cat.  They  heard  the  cat  howling 
and  screeching  somewhere  around  the  house  for  two 
or  three  days,  but  they  couldn't  find  her.  Potts  used 
to  get  up  at  night,  fairly  maddened  with  the  noise, 
and  heave  things  out  the  back  window  at  random, 
hoping  to  hit  her  and  discourage  her.  But  she  never 
seemed  to  mind  them ;  and  although  eventually  he 
fired  off  pretty  nearly  every  movable  thing  in  the 
house  excepting  the  piano,  she  continued  to  shriek 
and  scream  in  a  manner  that  was  simply  appalling. 
At  last,  one  day,  Potts  made  a  critical  examination 
of  the  premises,  and,  guided  by  the  noise,  he  finally 
located  the  cat  in  the  tin  waterspout  which  descends 
the  north  wall  of  the  house.  He  thinks  the  cat  must 
have  been  skylarking  on  the  roof  some  dark  night 
and  accidentally  tumbled  into  the  spout. 

Potts  tried  to  shake  her  down  by  hammering  on 


POTTS'   ADVENTURES.  l6l 

the  spout  with  a  stick ;  but  the  more  he  pounded,  the 
louder  she  yelled,  and  the  two  noises  roused  the  en 
tire  neighborhood  and  attracted  the  attention  of  the 
police.  Then  he  procured  a  clothes-prop ;  and  ascend 
ing  to  the  roof,  he  endeavored  to  push  the  animal  out. 
But  the  stick  was  not  long  enough  to  reach  her.  All 
it  was  good  for  was  to  make  her  howl  more  loudly ; 
and  it  did  that.  At  last  Potts  concluded  to  take  the 
spout  down  and  coax  the  cat  out.  When  he  got  it 
on  the  ground,  he  peeped  in  at  the  end,  and  he  could 
see  the  animal's  eyes  shining  like  balls  of  fire  far 
back  in  the  darkness  of  the  hole.  After  shaking  her 
up  for  a  while  without  inducing  her  to  move,  he  made 
up  his  mind  that  she  must  be  jammed  in  the  pipe  and 
unable  to  budge.  He  wanted  to  cut  the  pipe  open, 
but  Butterwick  said  it  would  be  a  pity  to  spoil  such 
a  good  spout  for  a  mere  cat. 

So  Potts  finally  determined  to  blow  her  out  with 
powder.  He  procured  a  small  charge  ;  and  pushing 
it  pretty  well  in  with  a  stick,  he  "tamped"  the  end 
of  the  spout  with  clay  and  lighted  the  slow-match. 
Two  minutes  later  there  was  an  explosion,  and  the 
tamping-clay  flew  out  and  struck  Butterwick  with 
some  violence  in  the  ribs,  curling  him  all  up  on  the 
grass  by  the  pump.  When  he  recovered  his  breath, 
he  got  up  and  said, 

"  Hang  your  infernal  cat !     It's  an  outrage  for  you 
to  be  endangering  the  lives  of  people  with  your  dia 
bolical  schemes  for  getting  at  a  beast  that  ought 
to've  been  killed  long  ago." 
11 


1 62  ELBOW-ROOM. 

Then  Butterwick  sullenly  got  over  the  fence  and 
went  home,  and  the  cat  meanwhile  kept  up  a  yowl 
ing  that  made  everybody's  hair  stand  on  end. 

Potts  said  that  he  made  a  mistake  in  not  placing  the 
butt  of  the  spout  against  something  solid.  And  so, 
after  putting  in  a  couple  of  pounds  of  powder,  he 
turned  the  spout  up  and  rested  the  end  upon  the 
ground,  propping  it  against  the  pump.  Then  he 
lighted  the  slow-match,  and  the  crowd  scattered. 
There  was  a  loud  explosion,  a  general  distribution 
of  fragments  of  tin  around  the  yard,  and  then  out 
from  the  upper  end  of  the  spout  there  sailed  some 
thing  black.  It  ascended  ;  it  went  higher  and  higher 
and  higher,  until  it  was  a  mere  speck ;  then  it  came 
sailing  down,  down,  down,  until  it  struck  the  earth. 
It  was  the  cat,  singed  off,  burned  to  a  crisp,  looking 
as  if  it  had  been  spending  the  summer  in  Vesuvius, 
but  apparently  still  active  and  hearty;  for  as  soon  as 
it  alighted  it  set  up  a  wild,  unearthly  screech  and 
darted  off  for  the  woodshed,  where  it  continued  to 
howl  until  Potts  went  in  and  killed  it  with  his  shot 
gun.  It  cost  him  forty  dollars  for  a  new  spout,  but 
he  says  he  doesn't  grudge  the  money  now  that  he 
has  stopped  that  fiendish  noise. 

Potts'  clock  got  out  of  order  one  day  last  win 
ter  and  began  to  strike  wrong.  That  was  the  cause 
of  the  fearful  excitement  at  his  house  on  a  certain 
night.  They  were  all  in  bed  sound  asleep  at  mid 
night,  when  the  clock  suddenly  struck  five.  The 


POTTS'  ADVENTURES.  163 

new  hired  girl,  happening  to  wake  just  as  it  began, 
heard  it,  and  bounced  out  of  bed  under  the  impres 
sion  that  morning  had  come.  And  as  it  is  dark  at 
5  A.  M.  just  at  that  season,  she  did  not  perceive  her 
mistake,  but  went  down  into  the  kitchen  and  began 
to  get  breakfast. 


While  she  was  bustling  about  in  a  pretty  lively 
manner,  Potts  happened  to  wake,  and  he  heard  the 
noise.  He  opened  his  room  door  cautiously  and 
crept  softly  to  the  head  of  the  stairs  to  listen.  He 
could  distinctly  hear  some  one  moving  about  the 


1 64  ELB  O  W-R  O  OM. 

kitchen  and  dining-room  and  apparently  packing  up 
the  china.  Accordingly,  he  went  back  to  his  room 
and  woke  Mrs.  Potts,  and  gave  her  orders  to  spring 
the  rattle  out  of  the  front  window  the  moment  she 
heard  his  gun  go  off.  Then  Potts  seized  his  fowling- 
piece;  and  going  down  to  the  dining-room  door, 
where  he  could  hear  the  burglars  at  work,  he  cocked 
the  gun,  aimed  it,  pushed  the  door  open  with  the 
muzzle  and  fired.  Instantly  Mrs.  Potts  sprang  the 
rattle,  and  before  Potts  could  pick  up  the  lacerated 
hired  girl  the  front  door  was  burst  open  by  two 
policemen,  who  came  into  the  dining-room. 

Seeing  Potts  with  a  gun,  and  a  bleeding  woman 
on  the  floor,  they  imagined  that  murder  had  been 
committed,  and  one  of  them  trotted  Potts  off  to  the 
station-house,  while  the  other  remained  to  investigate 
things.  Just  then  the  clock  struck  six.  An  expla 
nation  ensued  from  the  girl,  who  only  had  a  few 
bird-shot  in  her  leg,  and  the  policeman  left  to  bring 
Potts  home.  He  arrived  at  about  three  in  the 
morning,  just  as  the  clock  was  striking  eight.  When 
the  situation  was  unfolded  to  him,  his  first  action  was 
to  jam  the  butt  of  his  gun  through  the  clock,  where 
upon  it  immediately  struck  two  hundred  and  forty- 
three,  and  then  Potts  pitched  it  over  the  fence.  He 
has  a  new  clock  now,  and  things  are  working  better. 

The  Pottses  celebrated  their  "  iron  wedding  "  one 
day  last  winter,  and  they  invited  about  one  hundred 
and  twenty  guests  to  the  wedding.  Of  course  each 


POTTS1   ADVENTURES.  165 

person  felt  compelled  to  bring  a  present  of  some 
kind ;  and  each  one  did.  When  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Smith 
came,  they  handed  Potts  a  pair  of  flatirons.  When 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Jones  arrived,  they  also  had  a  pair  of 
flatirons.  All  hands  laughed  at  the  coincidence. 
And  there  was  even  greater  merriment  when  the 
Browns  arrived  with  two  pairs  of  flatirons.  But 
when  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Robinson  came  in  with  another 
pair  of  flatirons,  the  laughter  became  perfectly  con 
vulsive. 

There  was,  however,  something  less  amusing 
about  it  when  the  Thompsons  arrived  with  four  flat- 
irons  wrapped  in  brown  paper.  And  Potts'  face  ac 
tually  looked  grave  when  the  three  Johnson  girls 
were  ushered  into  the  parlor  carrying  a  flatiron 
apiece.  Each  one  of  the  succeeding  sixty  guests 
brought  flatirons,  and  there  was  no  break  in  the 
continuity  until  old  Mr.  Curry  arrived  from  Philadel 
phia  with  a  cast-iron  cow-bell.  Now,  Potts  has  no 
earthly  use  for  a  cow-bell,  and  at  any  other  time  he 
would  have  treated  such  a  present  with  scorn.  But 
now  he  was  actually  grateful  to  Mr.  Curry,  and  he 
was  about  to  embrace  him,  when  the  Walsinghams 
came  in  with  the  new  kind  of  double-pointed  flat- 
irons  with  wooden  handles.  And  all  the  rest  of  the 
guests  brought  the  same  articles  excepting  Mr. 
Rugby,  and  he  had  with  him  a  patent  stand  for 
holding  flatirons.  Potts  got  madder  and  madder 
every  minute,  and  by  the  time  the  company  had  all 
arrived  he  was  nearly  insane  with  rage ;  and  he  went 


i66 


ELBOW-ROOM. 


up  to  bed,  leaving  his  wife  to  entertain  the  guests. 
In  the  morning  they  counted  up  the  spoils,  and 
found  that  they  had  two  hundred  and  thirteen  flat- 
irons,  one  stand  and  a  cow-bell.  And  now  the 
Pottses  have  cut  the  Smiths  and  Browns  and  John- 


sons  and  Thompsons  and  the  rest  entirely,  for  they 
are  convinced  that  there  was  a  preconcerted  design 
to  play  a  trick  upon  them. 

The  fact,  however,  is  that  the  hardware  store  in 
the  place  had  an  overstock  of  flatirons  and  sold 
them  at  an  absurdly  low  figure,  and  Potts'  guests 
unanimously  went  for  the  cheapest  thing  they  could 
find,  as  people  always  do  on  such  occasions.  Potts 
thinks  he  will  not  celebrate  his  "  silver  wedding." 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

THE  RACES,  AND  SOME  OTHER  THINGS. 

(HERE  was  some  horse-racing  over  at  the 
Blank  course  one  day  last  fall,  and  But- 
terwick  attended  to  witness  it.  On  his 
way  home  in  the  cars  in  the  afternoon  he 
encountered  Rev.  Dr.  Dox,  a  clergyman  who  knows 
no  more  about  horse-racing  than  a  Pawnee  knows 
about  psychology.  Butterwick,  however,  took  for 
granted,  in  his  usual  way,  that  the  doctor  was  fa 
miliar  with  the  subject ;  and  taking  a  seat  beside 
him,  he  remarked  loudly — for  the  doctor  is  deaf — 

"  I  was  out  at  the  Blank  course  to-day  to  see 
Longfellow." 

"  Indeed !  Was  he  there  ?  Where  did  you  say 
he  was  ?" 

"  Why,  over  here  at  the  course.  I  saw  him  and 
General  Harney,  and  a  lot  more  of  'em.  He  run 
against  General  Harney,  and  it  created  a  big  excite 
ment,  too  ;  but  he  beat  the  general  badly,  and  the 
way  the  crowd  cheered  him  was  wonderful.  They 
say  that  a  good  deal  of  money  changed  hands.  The 
fact  is  I  had  a  small  bet  upon  the  general  myself." 

167 


l68  ELBOW-ROOM. 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  that  Longfellow  actually 
beat  General  Harney  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  do !  Beat  him  the  worst  kind.  You'd 
hardly  've  thought  it,  now,  would  you  ?  I  was  never 
more  surprised  in  my  life.  What's  queer  aboat  it 
is  that  he  seemed  just  as  fresh  afterward  as  before 
he  commenced.  Didn't  faze  him  a  bit.  Why,  in 
stead  of  wanting  to  rest,  he  was  jumping  about  just 
as  lively ;  and  when  the  crowd  began  to  push  around 
him,  he  kicked  a  boy  in  the  back  and  doubled  him 
all  up — nearly  killed  him.  Oh,  he's  wicked!  I 
wouldn't  trust  him  as  far  as  I  could  see  him." 

"  This  is  simply  astonishing,"  said  the  doctor. 
"I  wouldn't  have  believed  it  possible.  Are  you 
sure  it  was  Longfellow,  Mr.  Butterwick  ?" 

"  Why,  certainly,  of  course ;  I've  seen  him  often 
before.  And  after  breathing  a  while,  he  and  Maggie 
Mitchell  came  out,  and  as  soon  as  they  stepped  off 
he  put  on  an  extra  spurt  or  two  and  led  her  by  a 
neck  all  around  the  place,  and  she  came  in  puffing 
and  blowing,  and  nearly  exhausted.  I  never  took 
much  stock  in  her,  anyway." 

"  Led  her  by  the  neck !  Why,  this  is  the  most 
scandalous  conduct  I  ever  heard  of.  Mr  Butterwick, 
you  must  certainly  be  joking." 

"  I  pledge  you  my  word  it's  the  solemn  truth.  I 
saw  it  myself.  And  after  that  Judge  Bullerton  and 
General  Harney,  they  took  a  turn  together,  and  that 
was  the  prettiest  contest  of  the  day.  First  the 
judge'd  beat  the  general,  and  then  the  general'd  put 


THE  RACES,  AND  SOME   OTHER  THINGS.    169 

in  a  big  effort  and  give  it  to  the  judge,  and  the  two'd 
be  about  even  for  a  while,  and  all  of  a  sudden  the 
general  would  give  a  kinder  jerk  or  two  and  leave 
the  judge  just  nowhere,  and  by  the  time  the  general 
passed  the  third  quarter  the  judge  keeled  over 
against  the  fence  and  gave  in.  They  say  he  broke 
his  leg,  but  I  don't  know  if  that's  so  or  not.  Any 
way  he  was  used  up.  If  he'd  passed  that  quarter,  he 
might  have  been  all  right." 

"  What  was  the  matter  with  the  quarter  ?  Wasn't 
it  good  ?" 

"  Oh  yes.  But  you  see  the  judge  must  have  lost 
his  wind  or  something ;  and  I  reckon  when  he  tum 
bled  it  was  something  like  a  faint,  you  know." 

"  Served  him  right  for  engaging  in  such  a  brutal 
contest." 

4<  Well,  I  dunno.  Depends  on  how  you  look  at 
such  things.  And  when  that  was  over,  Longfellow 
entered  with  Mattie  Evelyn.  He  kept  shooting  past 
her  all  the  time,  and  this  worried  her  so  that  she 
ran  a  little  to  one  side,  and  somehow,  I  dunno  how 
it  happened,  but  his  leg  tripped  her,  and  she  rolled 
over  on  the  ground,  hurt  pretty  bad,  I  think,  while 
Longfellow  had  his  leg  cut  pretty  near  to  the 
bone." 

"  Did  any  of  the  shots  strike  her  ?" 

"  I  don't  understand  you." 

"  You  said  he  kept  shooting  past  her,  and  I 
thought  maybe  some  of  the  bullets  might  have 
struck  her." 


I7O  ELBOW-ROOM. 

"  Why,  I  meant  that  he  ran  past  her,  of  course. 
How  in  the  thunder  could  he  shoot  bullets  at  her?" 

"  I  thought  maybe  he  had  a  gun.  But  I  don't 
understand  any  of  it.  It  is  the  most  astounding 
thing  I  ever  heard  of,  at  any  rate." 

"  Now,  my  dear  sir,  I  want  to  ask  you  how  Long 
fellow  could  manage  a  gun  ?" 

11  Why,  as  any  other  man  does,  of  course." 

"  Man  !  man  !  Why,  merciful  Moses  !  you  didn't 
think  I  was  talking  about  human  beings  all  this  time, 
did  you  ?  Why,  Longfellow  is  a  horse !  They 
were  racing — running  races  over  at  the  course  this 
afternoon ;  and  I  was  trying  to  tell  you  about  it." 

"  You  don't  say  ?"  remarked  the  doctor,  with  a 
sigh  of  relief.  "  Well,  I  declare,  I  thought  you  were 
speaking  of  the  poet,  and  I  hardly  knew  whether  to 
believe  you  or  not ;  it  seemed  so  strange  that  he 
should  behave  in  that  manner." 

Then  Mr.  Butterwick  went  into  the  smoking-car 
to  tell  the  joke  to  his  friends,  and  the  doctor  sat  re 
flecting  upon  the  outrageous  impudence  of  the  men 
who  name  their  horses  after  respectable  people. 

While  he  was  thinking  about  it,  another  sensa 
tional  occurrence  attracted  his  attention. 

A  man  sitting  in  the  same  car  with  the  doctor  had 
placed  a  bottle  of  tomato  catsup  neck  downward  in 
the  rack  above  his  seat.  Presently  a  friend  came  in, 
and  in  a  few  moments  the  friend,  who  was  cutting 
his  finger-nails  with  a  knife,  introduced  the  subject 
of  the  races.  The  discussion  gradually  became 


THE   RACES,  AND   SOME    OTHER   THINGS.    I? I 

warm,  and  as  the  excitement  increased  the  man 
with  the  knife  gesticulated  violently  with  the  hand 
containing  the  weapon  while  he  explained  his  views. 
Meantime,  the  cork  jolted  out  of  the  bottle  overhead, 
and  the  catsup  dripped  down  over  the  owner's  head 
and  coat  and  collar  without  his  perceiving  the  fact. 


Soon  a  nervous  old  lady  on  the  back  seat  caught 
sight  of  the  red  stain,  and  imagining  it  was  blood, 
instantly  began  to  scream  "Murder!"  at  the  top 
of  her  voice.  As  the  passengers,  conductor  and 
brakemen  rushed  up  she  brandished  her  umbrella 
wildly  and  exclaimed, 

"Arrest  that  man  there!     Arrest  that  willin  !     I 
see  him  do  it.     I  see  him  stab  that  other  one  with 


ELBOW-ROOM. 

his  knife  until  the  blood  spurted  out.  Oh,  you 
wretch !  Oh,  you  willinous  rascal,  to  take  human 
life  in  that  scandalous  manner !  I  see  you  punch 
him  with  the  knife,  you  butcher,  you  !  and  I'll  swear 
it  agin  you  in  court,  too,  you  owdacious  rascal !" 

They  took  her  into  the  rear  car  and  soothed  her, 
while  the  victim  wiped  the  catsup  off  his  coat.  But 
that  venerable  old  woman  will  go  down  to  the  silent 
grave  with  the  conviction  that  she  witnessed  in  those 
cars  one  of  the  most  awful  and  sanguinary  encoun 
ters  that  has  occurred  since  the  affair  between  Cain 
and  Abel. 

Dr.  Dox  recently  was  called  upon  to  settle  a  bet 
upon  a  much  more  serious  matter  than  a  horse-race. 
During  a  religious  controversy  between  Peter  Lamb 
and  some  of  his  friends  one  of  the  latter  asserted 
that  Peter  didn't  know  who  was  the  mother-in-law 
of  Moses,  and  that  he  couldn't  ascertain.  Peter 
offered  to  bet  that  he  could  find  out,  and  the  wager 
was  accepted.  After  searching  in  vain  through  the 
Scriptures,  Mr.  Lamb  concluded  to  go  around  and 
interview  Deacon  Jones  about  it.  The  deacon  is 
head-man  in  the  gas-office,  and  in  the  office  there 
are  half  a  dozen  small  windows,  behind  which  sit 
clerks  to  receive  money.  Applying  at  one  of  these, 
Mr.  Lamb  said, 

"  Is  Deacon  Jones  in  ?" 

"  What's  your  business  ?" 

"  Why,  I  want  to  find  out  the  name  of  Moses' — " 


THE  RACES,  AND   SOME    OTHER    THINGS.    1/3 

"  Don't  know  anything  about  it.  Look  in  the 
directory;"  and  the  clerk  slammed  the  window 
shut. 

Then  Peter  went  to  the  next  window  and  said, 

"  I  want  to  see  Mr.  Jones  a  minute." 

"What  for?" 

"  I  want  to  see  if  he  knows  Moses' — " 

"  Moses  who  ?" 

"  Why,  Moses,  the  Bible  Moses — if  he  knows — " 

"  Patriarchs  don't  belong  in  this  department.  Ap 
ply  across  the  street  at  the  Christian  Association 
rooms;"  and  then  the  clerk  closed  the  window. 

At  the  next  window  Mr.  Lamb  said, 

"  I  want  to  see  Deacon  Jones  a  minute  in  refer 
ence  to  a  matter  about  Moses." 

"  Want  to  pay  his  »  gas-bill  ?  What's  the  last 
name  ?" 

"  Oh  no.  I  mean  the  first  Moses,  the  original 
one." 

"  Anything  the  matter  with  his  meter  ?" 

"  You  don't  understand  me.  I  refer  to  the 
Hebrew  prophet.  I  want  to  see — " 

"  Well,  you  can't  see  him  here.  This  is  the  gas- 
office.  Try  next  door." 

At  the  adjoining  window  Mr.  Lamb  said, 

"  Look  here !  I  want  to  see  Deacon  Jones  a  minute 
about  the  prophet  Moses,  and  I  wish  you'd  tell  him 
so." 

"  No,  I  won't,"  replied  the  clerk.  "  He's  too  busy 
to  be  bothered  with  anything  of  that  kind." 


174  ELBOW-ROOM. 

"But  I  must  see  him,"  said  Peter;  "I  insist  on 
seeing  him.  The  fact  of  the  matter  is,  I've  got  a  bet 
about  Moses' — " 

"  Don't  make  any  difference  what  you've  got ;  you 
can't  see  him." 

"  But  I  will.  I  want  you  to  go  and  tell  him  I'm 
here,  and  that  I  wish  for  some  information  respect 
ing  Moses.  I'll  have  you  discharged  if  you  don't 

go." 

"  Don't  care  if  you  want  to  see  him  about  all  the 
children  of  Israel,  and  the  Pharaohs  and  Nebuchad- 
nezzars.  I  tell  you  you  can't.  That  settles  it. 
Turn  off  your  gas  and  quit." 

Then  Peter  resolved  to  give  up  the  deacon  and 
try  Rev.  Dr.  Dox.  When  he  called  at  the  parson 
age,  the  doctor  came  down  into  the  parlor.  Because 
of  the  doctor's  deafness  there  was  a  little  misunder 
standing  when  Peter  said, 

"  I  called,  doctor,  to  ascertain  if  you  could  tell  me 
who  was  the  mother-in-law  of  Moses." 

"  Well,  really,"  said  the  doctor,  "  there  isn't  much 
preference.  Some  like  one  kind  of  roses  and  some 
like  another.  A  very  good  variety  of  the  pink  rose 
is  the  Duke  of  Cambridge ;  grows  large,  bears  early 
and  has  very  fine  perfume.  The  Hercules  is  also 
excellent,  but  you  must  manure  it  well  and  water 
it  often." 

"  I  didn't  ask  about  roses,  but  Moses.  You  make  a 
mistake,"  shouted  Peter. 

"  Oh,  of  course  !  by  all  means,     Train  them  up  to 


THE  RACES,  AND  SOME    OTHER    THINGS.    1 75 

a  stake  if  you  want  to.  The  wind  don't  blow  them 
about  so  and  they  send  out  more  shoots." 

"  You  misunderstand  me,"  yelled  Mr.  Lamb.  "  I 
asked  about  Moses,  not  roses.  I  want  to  know  who 
was  the  mother-in-law  of  Moses." 

"  Oh  yes ;  certainly.  Excuse  me ;  I  thought  you 
were  inquiring  about  roses.  The  law  of  Moses  was 
the  foundation  of  the  religion  of  the  Jews.  You  can 
find  it  in  full  in  the  Pentateuch.  It  is  admirable — 
very  admirable — for  the  purpose  for  which  it  was  or 
dained.  We,  of  course,  have  outlived  that  dispen 
sation,  but  it  still  contains  many  things  that  are  use 
ful  to  us,  as,  for  instance,  the — " 

"  Was  Moses  married  ?"  shrieked  Mr.  Lamb. 

"  Married  ?  Oh,  yes ;  the  name  of  his  father-in- 
law,  you  know,  was  Jethro,  and — " 

"  Who  was  his  wife  ?" 

"  Why,  she  was  the  daughter  of  Jethro,  of  course. 
I  said  Jethro  was  his  father-in-law." 

"  No ;  Jethro's  wife,  I  mean.  I  want  to  know  to 
settle  a  bet." 

"  No,  that  wasn't  her  name.  '  Bet '  is  a  corruption 
of  Elizabeth,  and  that  name,  I  believe,  is  not  found 
in  the  Old  Testament.  I  don't  remember  what  the 
name  of  Moses'  wife  was." 

"  I  want  to  know  what  was  the  name  of  the  moth 
er-in-law  of  Moses,  to  settle  a  bet." 

"  Young  man,"  said  the  old  doctor,  sternly,  "  you 
are  trifling  with  a  serious  subject.  What  do  you 
mean  by  wanting  Moses  to  settle  a  bet  ?" 


ELBOW-ROOM. 

Then  Mr.  Lamb  rolled  up  a  sheet  of  music  that 
lay  on  the  piano  ;  and  putting  it  to  the  doctor's  ear, 
he  shouted, 

"  I  made — a — bet — that — I — could — find — out  — 
what  —  the —  name  —  of  Moses'  —  mother-in-law — 
was.  Can — you — tell — me  ?" 

"  The  Bible  don't  say,"  responded  the  doctor ;  "  and 
unless  you  can  get  a  spiritualist  to  put  you  in  com 
munication  with  Moses,  I  guess  you  will  lose." 

Then  Peter  went  around  and  handed  over  the 
stakes.  Hereafter  he  will  gamble  on  other  than 
biblical  games. 

Mr.  Lamb  has  an  inquiring  mind.  He  is  always 
investigating  something.  He  read  somewhere  the 
other  day  that  two  drops  of  the  essential  oil  of  to 
bacco  placed  upon  the  tongue  of  a  cat  would  kill 
the  animal  instantly.  He  did  not  believe  it,  and  he 
concluded  to  try  the  experiment  to  see  if  it  was  so. 
Old  Squills,  the  druggist,  has  a  cat  weighing  about 
fifteen  pounds,  and  Mr.  Lamb,  taking  the  animal 
into  the  back  room,  shut  the  door,  opened  the  cat's 

mouth,  and  applied  the 
poison.  One  moment 
later  a  wild,  unearthly 
"  M-e-e-e-e-ow-ow-ow  ! 
was  emitted  by  the  cat, 
and,  to  Mr.  Lamb's  in 
tense  alarm,  the  animal 
began  swishing  around 


THE  RACES,  AND  SOME    OTHER    THINGS. 

the  room  with  hair  on  end  and  tail  in  convulsive  ex 
citement,  screeching  like  a  fog-whistle.  Mr.  Lamb  is 
not  certain,  but  he  considers  it  a  fair  estimate  to  say 
that  the  cat  made  the  entire  circuit  of  the  room, 
over  chairs  and  under  tables,  seventy-four  times 
every  minute,  and  he  is  willing  to  swear  to.  seventy 
times,  without  counting  the  occasional  diversions 
made  by  the  brute  for  the  purpose  of  snatching  at 
Mr.  Lamb's  pantaloons  and  hair.  Just  as  Mr.  Lamb 
had  about  made  up  his  mind  that  the  cat  would  con 
clude  the  gymnastic  exercises  by  eating  him,  the 
animal  dashed  through  the  glass  sash  of  the  door 
into  the  shop,  whisked  two  jars  of  licorice  root  and 
tooth-brushes  off  the  counter,  tore  out  the  ipecac- 
bottle  and  four  jugs  of  hair-dye,  smashed  a  bottle  of 
"  Balm  of  Peru,"  alighted  on  the  bonnet  of  a  woman 
who  was  drinking  soda-water,  and  after  a  few  con 
vulsions  rolled  over  into  a  soap-box  and  died. 

Mr.  Lamb  is  now  satisfied  that  a  cat  actually  can 
be  killed  in  the  manner  aforementioned,  but  he 
would  be  better  satisfied  if  old  Squills  didn't  insist 
upon  collecting  from  him  the  price  of  those  drugs 
and  the  glass  sash. 

Last  summer  Peter's  brother  spent  a  few  weeks 
with  him.  H'e  owned  a  "pistol  cane,"  which  he  car 
ried  about  with  him  loaded ;  but  when  he  went  away, 
he  accidentally  left  it  behind,  and  without  explaining 
to  Peter  that  it  was  different  from  ordinary  canes. 

So,  one  afternoon  a  few  days  later,  Peter  went  out 
12 


ELBOW-ROOM. 


to  Keyser's  farm  to 
look  at  some  stock, 
and  he  picked  up  the 
cane  to  take  along  with 
him.  When  he  got  to 
Keyser's,  the  latter 
went  to  the  barnyard 
to  show  him  an  extra 
ordinary  kind  of  a  new 
pig  that  he  had  devel 
oped  by  cross-breeding. 
"  Now  that  pig,"  said 
Keyser,  "just  lays  over 
all  the  other  pigs  on  the  Atlantic  Slope.  Take  him 
any  way  you  please,  he's  the  most  gorgeous  pig  any 
wheres  around.  Fat!  Why,  he's  all  fat!  There's 
no  lean  in  him.  He  ain't  anything  but  a  solid  mass 
of  lard.  Put  that  pig  near  a  fire,  and  in  twenty 


THE  RACES,  AND  SOME   OTHER   THINGS.    1 79 

minutes  his  naked  skeleton'd  be  standing  there  in  a 
puddle  of  grease.  That's  a  positive  fact.  Now,  you 
just  feel  his  shoulder." 

Then  Peter  lifted  up  his  cane  and  gave  the  pig  a 
poke.  He  poked  it  two  or  three  times,  and  he  had 
just  remarked,  "  That  certainly  is  a  splendid  pig," 
when  he  gave  it  another  poke,  and  then  somehow 
the  pistol  in  the  cane  went  off  and  the  pig  rolled 
over  and  expired. 

"  What  in  the  mischief  d'you  do  that  for  ?"  ex 
claimed  Keyser,  amazed  and  indignant. 

"  Do  it  for  ?  /  didn't  do  it !  This  cane  must've 
been  made  out  of  an  old  gun-barrel  with  the  load 
left  in.  I  never  had  the  least  idea,  I  pledge  you 
my  word,  that  there  was  anything  the  matter  with 
it." 

"  That's  pretty  thin,"  said  Keyser ;  "  you  had  a 
grudge  agin  that  pig  because  you  couldn't  scare  up 
a  pig  like  him,  and  you  killed  him  on  purpose." 

"  That's  perfectly  ridiculous." 

"Oh,  maybe  it  is.  You'll  just  fork  over  two  hun 
dred  dollars  for  that  piece  of  pork,  if  you  please." 

"  I'll  see  you  in  Egypt  first." 

***** 

Peter  whipped ;  but  if  Keyser  did  give  in  first, 
Peter  went  home  with  a  bleeding  nose,  and  the  next 
day  he  was  arrested  for  killing  the  pig.  The  case  is 
coming  up  soon,  and  Peter's  brother  is  on,  ready  to 
testify  about  that  cane.  Peter  himself  walks  now 
with  a  hickory  stick. 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

RESPECTING  CERTAIN  SAVAGES. 

| HEN  young  Mr.  Spooner,  Judge  Twid 
dler's  nephew,  left  college,  he  made  up  his 
mind  to  enter  the  ministry  and  become  a 
missionary.  One  day  he  met  Captain 
Hubbs;  and  when  he  mentioned  that  he  thought  of 
going  out  as  a  missionary,  Captain  Hubbs  asked 
him,  "  Where  are  you  going  ?" 

5.  "  To  the  Navigator  Islands.    I  sail  in  October." 
Capt.  (shaking  his  head  mournfully).    "  Pore  young 
man  !  Pore  young  man  !     It  is  too  bad — too  bad  in 
deed  !     Going  to  the  Navigator  Islands  !     Not  mar 
ried  yet,  I  reckon  ?     No  ?     Ah  !  so  much  the  better. 
No  wife  and  children  to  make  widows  and  orphans  of. 
But  it's  sad,   anyway.     A  promising  young  fellow 
like  you  !     My  heart  bleeds  for  you." 
6".  "  What  d'you  mean  ?" 

Capt.  "  Oh,  nothing.  I  don't  want  to  frighten 
you.  I  know  you're  doing  it  from  a  sense  of  duty. 
But  I've  been  there  to  the  Navigator  Islands,  and 
I'm  acquainted  with  the  people's  little  ways,  and  I — 
well,  I — I — the  fact  is,  you  see,  that — well,  sooner'n 
disguise  the  truth,  I  don't  mind  telling  you  straight 

180 


RESPECTING   CER  TAIN  SA  VA  GES.  1 8 1 

out  that  the  last  day  I  was  there  the  folks  et  one  of 
my  legs — sawed  it  off  an'  et  it.  Now  you  can  see 
how  things  are  yourself.  Those  Navigators  gobbled 
that  leg  right  up.  It  was  a  leg  a  good  deal  like 
yours,  only  heavier,  I  reckon." 

5.  "  You  astonish  me  !" 

Capt.  "  Oh,  that's  nothing.  They  did  that  just  for 
a  little  bit  of  fun.  The  chief  told  me  the  day  before 
that  they  never  et  anything  but  human  beings.  He 
said  his  family  consumed  about  three  a  day  all  the 
year  round,  counting  holidays  and  Sundays.  He 
was  a  light  eater  himself,  he  said,  on  account  of  git- 
ting  dyspepsia  from  a  tough  Australian  that  he  et  in 
1847,  but  the  girls  and  the  old  woman,  so  he  said, 
were  very  hearty  eaters,  and  it  kept  him  busy  prowl 
ing  around  after  human  beings  to  satisfy  'em.  The 
old  woman,  he  said,  rather  preferred  to  eat  babies, 
on  account  of  her  teeth  being  poor,  but  the  girls 
could  eat  the  grizzliest  sailor  that  ever  went  aboard 
ship." 

5.  "  This  is  frightful."      , 

Capt.  "  And  the  chief  said  some 
times  the  supply  was  scarce,  but 
lately  they  had  begun  to  depend 
more  on  imported  goods  than  on 
the  home  products.  And  they 
were  better,  anyhow,  for  all  the 
folks  preferred  white  meat.  He 
said  the  missionary  societies  were 
shipping  them  some  nice  lots  of  provender,  and 


1 82  ELBOW-ROOM. 

the  tears  came  in  his  eyes  when  he  said  how  good 
they  were  to  the  poor  friendless  savage  away  on  a 
distant  island.  He  said  he  liked  a  missionary  not 
too  old  or  too  young.  But  let's  see;  what's  your 
age,  did  you  say  ?" 

5.  "  I  am  twenty-eight." 

Capt.  "  I  think  he  mentioned  twenty-seven ;  but 
howsomedever,  he  liked  'em  old  enough  to  be  solid 
and  young  enough  to  be  tender.  And  he  said  he 
liked  missionaries  because  they  never  used  rum  or 
tobacco  and  always  kept  their  flavor.  I  know  I  seen 
one  young  fellow  who  came  out  there  from  Boston. 
He  got  up  a  camp-meeting  in  the  woods ;  and  while 
he  was  giving  out  the  hymn,  one  of  the  congregation 
banged  him  on  the  head  with  a  club,  and  in  less  than 
no  time  he  was  sizzling  over  a  fire  right  in  front  of 
the  pulpit.  They  lit  the  fire  with  his  hymn-book 
and  kept  her  going  with  his  sermons.  He  was  a 
man  just  about  your  build — a  little  leaner'n  you, 
maybe.  And  they  like  a  man  to  be  stoutish.  He 
eats  more  tender." 

S.  "  I  had  no  idea  that  such  awful  practices  ex 
isted." 

Capt.  "  I  haven't  told  you  half,  for  I  don't  want  to 
discourage  you.  I  know  you  mean  well,  and  maybe 
they'll  let  you  alone.  But  I  remember,  when  I  told 
the  chief  that  there  was  a  whole  lot  of  you  chaps 
studying  to  be  missionaries,  he  laughed  and  rubbed 
his  hands,  and  ordered  the  old  woman  to  plant  more 
horseradish  and  onions  the  following  year.  He  was 


RESPECTING   CER  TAIN  SA  VA  GES.  1 8 3 

a  forehanded  kind  of  a  man  for  a  mere  pagan.  He 
said  that  if  they  would  only  give  his  tribe  time,  if 
they  would  send  him  along  the  supplies  regular,  so's 
not  to  glut  the  market,  they  could  put  away  the  en 
tire  clergy  of  the  United  States  and  half  the  deacons 
without  an  effort.  He  was  nibbling  at  a  missionary- 
bone  when  he  spoke,  and  the  old  woman  was  mak 
ing  a  new  club  out  of  another  one.  They  are  an 
economical  people.  They  utilize  everything." 

S.  "  This  is  the  most  painful  intelligence  that  I 
ever  received.  If  I  felt  certain  about  it,  I  would 
remain  at  home." 

Capt.  "  Don't  let  me  induce  you  to  throw  the 
thing  up.  I  wouldn't  a  told  you,  anyway,  only  you 
kind  of  drew  the  information  out  of  me.  And  as 
long  as  I've  gone  this  far,  I  might  as  well  tell  you 
that  I  got  a  letter  the  other  day  from  a  man  who'd 
just  come  from  there,  and  he  said  the  crops  were 
short,  eatable  people  were  scarce,  and  not  one  of 
them  savages  had  had  a  square  meal  for  months. 
When  he  left,  they  were  sitting  on  the  rocks,  hun 
gry  as  thunder,  waiting  for  a  missionary-society 
ship  to  arrive.  And  now  I  must  be  going.  Good 
bye.  I  know  I'll  never  see  you  again.  Take  a  last 
look  at  me.  Good-morning." 

Then  the  captain  hobbled  off. 

Mr.  Spooner  has  concluded  to  stay  at  home  and 
teach  school. 

Another  rather   more  enthusiastic  friend  of  the 


1 84  ELBOW-ROOM. 

savage  is  Mr.  Dodge.  He  came  into  the  office  of 
the  Patriot  one  day  and  sought  a  desk  where  a  re 
porter  was  writing.  Seating  himself  and  tilting  the 
chair  until  it  was  nicely  balanced  upon  two  legs,  he 
smiled  a  serene  and  philanthropic  smile,  and  said, 

"  You  see,  I'm  the  friend  of  the  poor  Indian ;  he 
regards  me  as  his  Great  White  Brother,  and  I  re 
ciprocate  his  confidence  and  affection  by  doing  what 
I  can  to  alleviate  his  sufferings  in  his  present  unfor 
tunate  situation.  Young  man,  you  do  not  know  the 
anguish  that  fills  the  soul  of  the  red  man  as  civiliza 
tion  makes  successive  inroads  upon  his  rights.  It  is 
too  sacred  for  exhibition.  He  represses  his  emotion 
sternly,  and  we  philanthropists  only  detect  it  by  ob 
serving  that  he  betrays  an  increased  longing  for  fire 
water  and  an  aggravated  indisposition  to  wash  him 
self.  Now,  what  do  you  suppose  is  the  last  sorrow 
that  has  come  to  blast  the  happiness  of  this  perse 
cuted  being  ?  What  do  you  think  it  is  ?" 

"  I  don't  know,  and  I  don't  care." 

"  I  will  tell  you.  It  is  the  increasing  tendency  of 
the  white  man  to  baldness.  As  civilization  pushes 
upward,  the  hair  of  the  pale  face  recedes.  Eventu 
ally,  I  suppose,  about  every  other  white  man  will  be 
bald.  I  notice  that  even  you  are  gradually  being 
reduced  to  a  mere  fringe  around  the  base  of  your 
skull.  Now,  imagine  how  an  Indian  feels  when  he 
considers  this  tendency.  Is  it  any  wonder  that  the 
future  seems  dark  and  gloomy  and  hairless  to  him  ? 
The  scalping  operation  to  him  is  a  sacred  rite.  It  is 


RESPECTING   CERTAIN  SAVAGES.  185 

interwoven  with  his  most  cherished  traditions.  When 
he  surrenders  it,  he  dies  with  a  broken  heart.  What, 
then,  is  to  be  done  ?" 

"  Oh,  do  hush  up  and  quit." 

"  There  is  but  one  thing  to  be  done  to  meet  this 
grave  emergency.  We  cannot  justly  permit  that 
grand  aboriginal  man  who  once  held  sway  over  this 
mighty  continent  to  be  filled  with  desolation  and 
misery  by  the  inaccessibility  of  the  scalps  of  his  fel 
low-creatures.  My  idea,  therefore,  is  to  bring  those 
scalps  within  his  reach,  even  when  they  are  baldest 
and  shiniest.  But  how  ?" 

"  That'll  do  now.     Don't  want  to  hear  any  more." 

"  Here  my  ingenuity  comes  into  play.  I  have  in 
vented  a  simple  little  machine  which  I  call  '  The 
Patent  Adjustable  Atmospheric  Scalp-lifter.'  Here 
it  is.  The  device  consists  of  a  disk  of  thin  leather 
about  six  inches  in  diameter.  In  the  centre  is  a  hole 
through  which  runs  a  string.  When  the  Indian  de 
sires  to  deal  with  a  man  with  a  bald  head,  he  pro 
ceeds  as  follows  —  observe  the  simplicity  of  the 
operation :  He  wets  the  leather,  stamps  it  carefully 
down  upon  the  surface  of  the  scalp,  slides  his  knife 
around  over  the  ears,  gives  the  string  a  jerk,  and  off 
comes  the  scalp  as  nicely  as  if  it  had  been  Absalom's. 
In  fact,  you  will  see  at  once  that  it  is  an  ingenious 
application  of  the  '  sucker '  used  by  boys  to  raise 
bricks  and  stones.  I  know  what  you  are  going  to 
say — that  a  white  man  who  is  to  be  manipulated  by 
an  Jtndian  needs  succor  worse  than  the  red  man.  It 


1 86  ELBOW-ROOM. 

is  an  old  joke,  and  a  good  one ;  but  my  desire  is  to 
bring  joy  to  the  wigwam  of  the  Kick.apoo  and  to 
make  the  heart  of  the  Arapahoe  glad." 

"  Oh,  do  dry  up  and  go  down  stairs." 

"You  catch  the  idea,  of  course;  but  perhaps 
you'd  like  to  see  the  apparatus  in  operation.  Wait 
a  moment ;  I'll  show  you  how  splendidly  it  works." 

Then,  as  the  reporter  resolutely  continued  at  his 
task  with  his  nose  almost  against  the  desk,  the 
friend  of  the  disconsolate  red  man  suddenly  pro 
duced  a  moist  sucker  and  clapped  it  firmly  upon  the 
bald  place  on  the  reporter's  head,  and  then,  before 
the  indignant  victim  could  offer  resistance,  the  Great 
White  Brother,  with  the  string  in  his  hand,  careered 
around  the  office  a  couple  of  times,  drawing  the 
helpless  journalist  after  him.  As  he  withdrew  the 
machine  he  smiled  and  said, 

"  Elegant,  isn't  it  ?  Could  pull  a  horse-car  with 
it.  I  wish  you'd  come  to  Washington  with  me  and 
lend  me  your  head,  so's  I  can  show  the  Secretary  of 
the  Interior  how  the  thing  works.  You  have  the 
best  scalp  for  a  good  hold  of  any  I've  tried  yet." 

Bitf  the  reporter  was  at  the  speaking-tube  calling 
for  a  boy  to  go  for  a  policeman,  and  he  didn't  seem 
to  hear  the  suggestion.  And  so  Mr.  Dodge  folded 
up  the  machine,  placed  it  in  his  carpet-bag,  and  went 
out  smiling  as  though  he  had  been  received  with 
enthusiasm  and  been  promised  a  gratuitous  adver 
tisement.  He  passed  the  policeman  on  the  stairs, 
and  then  sailed  serenely  out  of  reach,  perhaps  to  seek 


RESPECTING   CERTAIN  SAVAGES.  l8/ 

for  another  and  more  sympathetic  bald   man  upon 
whom  to  illustrate  the  value  of  his  invention. 


Reference  to  the  Indians  reminds  me  of  the  very 
ungenerous  treatment  that  Mr.  Bartholomew,  one 
of  our  citizens,  received  at  the  hands  of  certain  red 
men  with  whom  he  trafficked  in  the  West. 

A  year  or  two  ago  Mr.  Bartholomew  was  out  in 
Colorado  for  a  few  months,  and  just  before  he  started 
for  the  journey  home  he  wrote  to  his  wife  concern 
ing  the  probable  time  of  his  arrival.  As  a  postscript 
to  the  letter  he  added  the  following  message  to  his 
son,  a  boy  about  eight  years  old : 

"  Tell  Charley  I  am  going  to  bring  with  me  a  dear 
little  baby-bear  that  I  bought  from  an  Indian." 

Of  course  that  information  pleased  Charley,  and 
he  directed  most  of  his  thoughts  and  his  conversa 
tion  to  the  subject  of  the  bear  during  the  next  two 
weeks,  wishing  anxiously  for  his  father  to  come  with 
the  little  pet.  On  the  night  which  been  fixed  by 
Bartholomew  for  his  arrival  he  did  not  come,  and 
the  family  were  very  much  disappointed.  Charley 
particularly  was  dreadfully  sorry,  because  he  couldn't 
get  the  bear.  On  the  next  evening,  while  Mrs. 
Bartholomew  and  the  children  were  sitting  in  the 
front  room  with  the  door  open  into  the  hall,  they 
heard  somebody  running  through  the  front  yard. 
Then  the  front  door  was  suddenly  burst  open,  and  a 
man  dashed  into  the  hall  and  up  stairs  at  a  frightful 
speed.  Mrs.  Bartholomew  was  just  about  to  go  up 


1 88  ELBOW-ROOM. 

after  him  to  ascertain  who  it  was,  when  a  large  dark 
animal  of  some  kind  darted  in  through  the  door  and 
with  an  awful  growl  went  bowling  up  stairs  after  the 


man.  It  suddenly  flashed  upon  the  mind  of  Mrs. 
Bartholomew  that  the  man  was  her  husband,  and 
that  that  was  the  little  baby-bear.  Just  then  the 
voice  of  Bartholomew  was  heard  calling  from  the 
top  landing : 


RESPECTING   CERTAIN  SAVAGES.  189 

"  Ellen,  for  gracious  sake  get  out  of  the  house  as 
quick  as  you  can,  and  shut  all  the  doors  and  window- 
shutters." 

Then  Mrs.  Bartholomew  sent  the  boys  into  Part 
ridge's,  next  door,  and  she  closed  the  shutters,  locked 
all  the  doors  and  went  into  the  yard  to  await  further 
developments.  When  she  got  outside,  she  saw 
Bartholomew  on  the  roof  kneeling  on  the  trap-door, 
which  he  kept  down  only  by  the  most  tremendous 
exertions.  Then  he  screamed  for  somebody  to  come 
up  and  help  him,  and  Mr.  Partridge  got  a  ladder  and 
a  hatchet  and  some  nails,  and  ascended.  Then 
they  nailed  down  the  trap-door,  and  Bartholomew 
and  Partridge  came  down  the  ladder  together.  After 
he  had  greeted  his  family,  Mrs.  Bartholomew  asked 
him  what  was  the  matter,  and  he  said, 

"  Why,  you  know  that  little  baby-bear  I  said  I'd 
bring  Charley  ?  Well,  I  had  him  in  a  box  until  I 
got  off  the  train  up  here  at  the  depot,  and  then  I 
thought  I'd  take  him  out  and  lead  him  around  home 
by  the  chain.  But  the  first  thing  he  did  was  to  fly 
at  my  leg;  and  when  I  jumped  back,  I  ran,  and  he 
after  me.  He  would've  eaten  me  up  in  about  a 
minute.  That  infernal  Indian  must  have  fooled  me. 
He  said  it  was  a  cub  only  two  months  old  and  it 
had  no  teeth.  I  believe  it's  a  full-grown  bear." 

It  then  became  a*  very  interesting  question  how 
they  should  get  the  bear  out  of  the  house.  Bar 
tholomew  thought  they  had  better  try  to  shoot  him, 
and  he  asked  a  lot  of  the  neighbors  to  come  around 


ELBOW-ROOM. 

to  help  with  their  shot-guns.  When  they  would 
hear  the  bear  scratching  at  one  of  the  windows,  they 
would  pour  in  a  volley  at  him,  but  after  riddling  every 
shutter  on  the  first  floor  they  could  still  hear  the 
bear  tearing  around  in  there  and  growling.  So  Bar 
tholomew  and  the  others  got  into  the  cellar,  and  as 
the  bear  crossed  the  floor  they  would  fire  up  through 
it  at  about  the  spot  where  they  thought  he  was.  But 
the  bombardment  only  seemed  to  exasperate  the 
animal,  and  after  each  shot  they  could  hear  him 
smashing  something. 

Then  Partridge  said  maybe  a  couple  of  good  dogs 
might  whip  him ;  and  he  borrowed  a  bulldog  and  a 
setter  from  Scott  and  pushed  them  through  the  front 
door.  They  listened,  and  for  half  an  hour  they  could 
hear  a  most  terrific  contest  raging;  and  Scott  said 
he'd  bet  a  million  dollars  that  bull-dog  would  eat  up 
any  two  bears  in  the  Rocky  Mountains.  Then  every 
thing  became  still,  and  a  few  moments  later  they 
could  hear  the  bear  eating  something  and  cracking 
bones  with  his  teeth ;  and  Bartholomew  said  that  the 
Indian  out  in  Colorado  told  him  that  the  bear  was 
particularly  fond  of  dog-meat,  and  could  relish  a  dog 
almost  any  time. 

At  last  Bartholomew  thought  he  would  try  strat 
egy.  He  procured  a  huge  iron  hook  with  a  sharp 
point  to  it,  tied  it  to  a  rope  and  put  three  or  four 
pounds  of  fresh  beef  on  the  hook.  Then  he  went 
up  the  ladder,  opened  the  trap-door  in  the  roof  and 
dropped  in  the  bait.  In  a  few  moments  he  got  a 


RESPECTING   CERTAIN  SAVAGES.  19! 

bite,  and  all  hands  manned  the  rope  and  pulled,  when 
out  came  Scott's  bull-dog,  which  had  been  hiding  in 
the  garret.  Bartholomew  was  disgusted;  but  he  put 
on  fresh  bait  and  threw  in  again,  and  in  about  an 
hour  the  bear  took  hold,  and  they  hauled  him  out 
and  knocked  him  on  the  head. 

Then  they  entered  the  house.  In  the  hall  the  car 
pet  was  covered  with  particles  of  dead  setter,  and 
in  the  parlor  the  carpet  and  the  windows  had  been 
shot  to  pieces,  while  the  furniture  was  full  of  bullet- 
holes.  The  bear  had  smashed  the  mirror,  torn  up 
six  or  seven  chairs,  knocked  over  the  lamp  and  de 
molished  all  the  crockery  in  the  pantry.  Bartholo 
mew  gritted  his  teeth  as  he  surveyed  the  ruin,  and 
Mrs.  Bartholomew  said  she  wished  to  patience  he 
had  stayed  in  Colorado.  However,  they  fixed  things 
up  as  well  as  they  could,  and  then  Mrs.  Bartholomew 
sent  into  Partridge's  for  Charley  and  the  youngest 
girl.  When  Charley  came,  he  rushed  up  to  Barthol 
omew  and  said, 

"Oh,  pa!  where's  my  little  baby-bear?" 

Then  Bartholomew  gazed  at  him  severely  for  a 
moment,  looked  around  to  see  if  Mrs.  Bartholomew 
had  left  the  room,  and  then  gave  Charley  the  most 
terrific  spanking  that  he  ever  received. 

The  Bartholomew  children  have  no  pets  at  present 
but  a  Poland  rooster  which  has  moulted  his  tail. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

LOVE,  SUFFERING  AND  SUICIDE. 

|ETER  LAMB,  a  young  man  who  is  em 
ployed  in  one  of  the  village  stores,  some 
time  ago  conceived  a  very  strong  passion 
for  a  neighbor  of  his,  Miss  Julia  Brown, 
the  doctor's  daughter.  But  the  Fates  seemed  to  be 
against  the  successful  prosecution  of  his  suit,  for  he 
managed  to  plunge  into  a  series  of  catastrophes  in 
the  presence  of  the  young  lady,  and  to  make  himself 
so  absurd  that  even  his  affection  seemed  ridiculous. 
One  summer  evening,  when  he  was  just  beginning 
to  make  advances,  Miss  Brown  came  over  to  see 
Peter's  sister,  and  the  two  girls  sat  out  upon  the 
front  porch  together  in  the  darkness,  talking.  Peter 
plays  a  little  upon  the  bugle,  and  it  occurred  to  him 
that  it  would  be  a  good  thing  to  exhibit  his  skill  to 
Julia.  So  he  went  into  the  dark  parlor  and  felt  over 
the  top  of  the  piano  for  the  horn.  It  happened  that 
his  aunt  from  Penn's  Grove  had  been  there  that  day 
and  had  left  her  brass  ear-trumpet  lying  on  the  piano, 
and  Peter  got  hold  of  this  without  perceiving  the 
mistake,  as  the  two  were  of  similar  shape.  He  took 
it  in  his  hand  and  went  out  on  the  porch  where  Miss 

192 


LOVE,   SUFFERING  AND   SUICIDE.  193 

Brown  was  sitting.  He  asked  Miss  Brown  if  she 
was  fond  of  music  on  the  horn;  and  when  she  said 
she  adored  it,  he  asked  her  how  she  would  like  him 
to  play  "  Ever  of  Thee;"  and  she  said  that  was  the 
only  tune  she  cared  anything  for. 

So  Peter  put  the  small  end  of  the  trumpet  to  his 
lips  and  blew.  He  blew  and  blew.  Then  he  blew 
some  more,  and  then  he  drew  a  fresh  breath  and 
blew  again.  The  only  sound  that  came  was  a  hol 
low  moan,  which  sounded  so  queerly  in  the  darkness 
that  Miss  Brown  asked  him  if  he  was  not  well.  And 
when  he  said  he  was,  she  said  that  he  went  exactly 
like  a  second  cousin  of  hers  that  had  the  asthma. 

Then  Peter  remarked  that  somehow  the  horn  was 
out  of  order  for  "  Ever  of  Thee ;"  but  if  Miss  Brown 
would  like  to  hear  "  Sweetly  I  dreamed,  Love,"  he 
would  try  to  play  it,  and  Miss  Brown  said  that  the 
fondest  recollections  clustered  about  the  melody. 

So  Peter  put  the  trumpet  to  his  lips  again  and 
strained  his  lungs  severely  in  an  effort  to  make 
some  music.  It  wouldn't  come,  but  he  made  a  very 
singular  noise,  which  induced  Miss  Brown  to  ask  if 
the  horse  in  the  stable  back  of  the  house  had  heaves. 
Then  Peter  said  he  thought  somebody  must  have 
plugged  the  bugle  up  with  something,  and  he  asked 
his  sister  to  light  the  gas  in  the  entry  while  he 
cleaned  it  out.  When  she  did  so,  the  ear-trumpet  be 
came  painfully  conspicuous,  and  both  the  girls 
laughed.  When  Miss  Brown  laughed,  Peter  looked 
up  at  her  with  pain  in  his  face,  put  on  his  hat  and 

13 


194  ELBOW-ROOM. 

went  out  into  the  street,  where  he  could  express  his 
feelings  in  violent  terms. 

A  few  nights  later  the  Browns  had  a  tea-party,  to 
which  Mr.  Lamb  was 'invited.  He  went,  determined 
to  do  his  full  share  of  entertaining  the  company. 
While  supper  was  in  progress,  Mr.  Lamb  said  in  a 
loud  voice, 

"  By  the  way,  did  you  read  that  mighty  good 
thing  in  the  Patriot  the  other  day  about  the  woman 
over  in  Bridgeport  ?  It  was  one  of  the  most  amus 
ing  things  that  ever  came  under  my  observation. 
The  woman's  name,  you  see,  was  Emma.  Well, 
there  were  two  young  fellows  paying  attention  to 
her,  and  after  she'd  accepted  one  of  them  the  other 
also  proposed  to  her  and  as  she  felt  certain  that  the 
first  one  wasn't  in  earnest,  she  accepted  the  second 
one  too.  So  a  few  days  later  both  of  'em  called  at 
the  same  time,  both  claimed  her  hand,  and  both  in 
sisted  on  marrying  her  at  once.  Then,  of  course, 
she  found  herself  face  to  face  with  a  mighty  unpleas 
ant — unpleasant —  Er — er — er —  Less  see ;  what's 
the  word  I  want  ?  Unpleasant —  Er — er —  Blamed 
if  I  haven't  forgotten  that  word." 

"  Predicament,"  suggested  Mr.  Potts. 

"  No,  that's  not  it.  What's  the  name  of  that  thing 
with  two  horns  ?  Unpleasant —  Er — er —  Hang 
it !  it's  gone  clear  out  of  my  mind." 

"  A  cow,"  hinted  Miss  Mooney. 

"  No,  not  a  cow." 

"  Maybe  it's  a  buffalo,"  remarked  Dr.  Dox. 


LOVE,   SUFFERING  AND  SUICIDE.  195 

"  No,  no  kind  of  an  animal.  Something  else  "with 
two  horns.  Mighty  queer  I  can't  recall  it." 

"  Perhaps  it's  a  brass  band,"  observed  Butterwick. 

"  Or  a  man  who's  had  a  couple  of  drinks,"  sug 
gested  Dr.  Brown. 

"  Of  course  not." 

"  You  don't  mean  a  fire  company  ?"  asked  Mrs. 
Banger. 

"  N — no.  That's  the  confounded  queerest  thing 
I  ever  heard  of,  that  I  can't  remember  that  word," 
said  Mr.  Lamb,  getting  warm  and  beginning  to  feel 
miserable. 

"  Well,  give  us  the  rest  of  the  story  without  it," 
said  Potts. 

"  That's  the  mischief  of  it,"  said  Mr.  Lamb.  "  The 
whole  joke  turns  on  that  infernal  word." 

"Two  horns  did  you  say?"  asked  Dr.  Dox. 
"  Maybe  it  is  a  catfish." 

"  Or  a  snail,"  remarked  Judge  Twiddler. 

"  N — no  ;  none  of  those." 

"  Is  it  an  elephant  or  a  walrus  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Dox. 

"  I  guess  I'll  have  to  give  it  up,"  said  Mr.  Lamb, 
wiping  the  perspiration  from  his  brow. 

"  Well,  that's  the  sickest  old  story  I  ever  en 
countered,"  remarked  Butterwick  to  Potts.  Then 
everybody  smiled,  and  Mr.  Lamb,  looking  furtively 
at  Julia,  appeared  to  feel  as  if  he  would  welcome 
death  on  the  spot. 

The  mystery  is  yet  unsolved;  but  it  is  believed 
that  Peter  was  trying  to  build  up  the  woman's  name, 


196  ELBOW-ROOM. 

Emma,  into  a  pun  upon  the  word  "  dilemma."  The 
secret,  however,  is  buried  in  his  bosom. 

Peter  professes  to  be  an  expert  in  legerdemain,  and 
he  came  to  Brown's  prepared  to  perform  some  of  his 
best  feats.  When  the  company  assembled  in  the 
drawing-room  after  tea,  he  determined  to  redeem 
the  fearful  blunder  that  he  had  made  in  the  dining- 
room. 

Several  of  the  magicians  who  perform  in  public  do 
what  they  call  "the  gold-fish  trick."  The  juggler 
stands  upon  the  stage,  throws  a  handkerchief  over 
his  extended  arm  and  produces  in  succession  three 
or  four  shallow  glass  dishes  filled  to  the  brim  with 
water  in  which  live  gold-fish  are  swimming.  Of 
course  the  dishes  are  concealed  somehow  upon  the 
person  of  the  performer. 

Peter  had  discovered  how  the  trick  was  done,  and 
he  resolved  to  do  it  now.  So  the  folks  all  gathered  in 
one  end  of  the  parlor,  and  in  a  few  moments  Lamb 
entered  the  door  at  the  other  end.  He  said, 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen,  you  will  perceive  that  I 
have  nothing  about  me  except  my  ordinary  clothing; 
and  yet  I  shall  produce  presently  two  dishes  filled 
with  water  and  living  fish.  Please  watch  me  nar 
rowly." 

Then  Peter  flung  the  handkerchief  over  his  hand 
and  arm,  and  we  could  see  that  he  was  working  away 
vigorously  at  something  beneath  it.  He  continued 
for  some  moments,  and  still  the  gold-fish  did  not  ap 
pear.  Then  he  began  to  grpw  very  red  in  the  face, 


LOVE,  SUFFERING  AND  SUICIDE.  199 

and  we  saw  that  something  was  the  matter.  Then 
the  perspiration  began  to  stand  on  Peter's  forehead, 
and  Mrs.  Brown  asked  him  if  anything  serious  was 
the  matter.  Then  the  company  smiled,  and  the  ma 
gician  grew  redder;  but  he  kept  on  fumbling  beneath 
that  handkerchief,  and  apparently  trying  to  reach 
around  under  his  coat-tails.  Then  we  heard  some 
thing  snap,  and  the  next  moment  a  quart  of  water 
ran  down  the  wizard's  left  leg  and  spread  out  over 
the  carpet.  By  this  time  he  looked  as  if  joy  had 
forsaken  him  for  ever.  But  still  he  continued  to  feel 
around  under  the  handkerchief.  At  last  another  snap 
was  heard,  and  another  quart  of  water  plunged  down 
his  right  leg  and  formed  a  pool  about  his  shoe.  Then 
the  necromancer  hurriedly  said  that  the  experiment 
had  failed  somehow,  and  he  darted  into  the  dining- 
room.  We  followed  him,  and  found  him  sitting  on 
the  sofa  trying  to  remove  his  pantaloons.  He  ex 
claimed, 

"Oh,  gracious!  Come  here  quick,  and  pull  these 
off!  They're  soaking  wet,  and  I've  got  fifteen  live 
gold-fish  inside  my  trousers  flipping  around,  and 
rasping  the  skin  with  their  fins  enough  to  set  a  man 
crazy.  Ouch  !  Hurry  that  shoe  ofif,  and  catch  that 
fish  there  at  my  left  knee,  or  I'll  have  to  howl  right 
out." 

Then  we  undressed  him  and  picked  the  fish  out 
of  his  clothes,  and  we  discovered  that  he  had  had  two 
dishes  full  of  water  and  covered  with  India-rubber 
tops  strapped  inside  his  trousers  behind.  In  his 


200  ELB  OW-RO  OM. 

struggle  to  get  at  them  he  had  torn  the  covers  to 
rags.  We  fixed  him  up  in  a  pair  of  Dr.  Brown's  trou 
sers,  which  were  six  inches  too  short  for  him,  and 
then  he  climbed  over  the  back  fence  and  went  home. 
Such  misfortunes  would  have  discouraged  most 
men  utterly,  but  Peter  was  desperately  in  love ;  and 
a  week  or  two  later,  without  stopping  to  estimate  his 
chances,  he  proposed  to  his  fair  enchantress.  She 
refused  him  promptly,  of  course.  He  seemed  almost 
wild  over  his  defeat,  and  his  friends  feared  that  some 
evil  consequences  would  ensue.  Their  apprehen 
sions  were  realized.  Peter  called  upon  young  Potts 
and  asked  him  if  he  had  a  revolver,  and  Potts  said 
he  had.  Peter  asked  Potts  to  lend  it  to  him,  and 
Potts  did  so.  Then  Peter  informed  Potts  that  he 
had  made  up  his  mind  to  commit  suicide.  He  said 
that  since  Miss  Brown  had  dealt  so  unkindly  with 
him  he  felt  that  life  was  an  insupportable  burden, 
and  he  could  find  relief  only  in  the  tomb.  He  in 
tended  to  go  down  by  the  river-shore  and  there 
blow  out  his  brains,  and  so  end  all  this  suffering  and 
grief  and  bid  farewell  to  a  world  that  had  grown 
dark  to  him.  He  said  that  he  mentioned  the  fact  to 
Potts  in  confidence  because  he  wanted  him  to  per 
form  some  little  offices  for  him  when  he  was  gone. 
He  entrusted  to  Potts  a  sonnet  entitled  "A  Last 
Farewell,"  and  addressed  to  Julia  Brown.  This  he 
asked  should  be  delivered  to  Miss  Brown  as  soon  as 
his  corpse  was  discovered.  He  said  it  might  excite 
a  pang  in  her  bosom  and  induce  her  to  cherish  his 


LOVE,   SUFFERING  AND  SUICIDE.  2OI 

memory.  Then  he  gave  Potts  his  watch  as  a  keep 
sake,  and  handed  him  forty  dollars,  with  which  he 
desired  Mr.  Potts  to  purchase  a  tombstone.  He  said 
he  would  prefer  a  plain  one  with  his  simple  name 
cut  upon  it,  and  he  wanted  the  funeral  to  be  as  un 
ostentatious  as  possible. 

Potts  promised  to  fulfill  these  commissions,  and 
he  suggested  that  he  would  lend  Mr.  Lamb  a  bowie- 
knife,  with  which  he  could  slash  himself  up  if  the 
pistol  failed. 

But  the  suicide  said  that  he  would  make  sure 
work  with  the  revolver,  although  he  was  much 
obliged  for  the  offer  all  the  same.  He  said  he  would 
like  Potts  to  go  around  in  the  morning  and  break 
the  news  as  gently  as  possible  to  his  unhappy 
mother,  and  to  tell  her  that  his  last  thought  was  of 
her.  But  he  particularly  requested  that  she  would 
not  put  on  mourning  for  her  erring  son. 

Then  he  said  that  the  awful  act  would  be  per 
formed  on  the  beach,  just  below  the  gas-works,  and 
he  wished  Potts  to  come  out  with  some  kind  of  a 
vehicle  to  bring  the  remains  home.  If  Julia  came 
to  the  funeral,  she  was  to  have  a  seat  in  the  carriage 
next  to  the  hearse ;  and  if  she  wanted  his  heart,  it 
was  to  be  given  to  her  in  alcohol.  It  beat  only  for 
her.  Potts  was  to  tell  his  employers  at  the  store 
that  he  parted  with  them  with  regret,  but  doubtless 
they  would  find  some  other  person  more  worthy  of 
their  confidence  and  esteem.  He  said  he  didn't  care 
where  he  was  buried,  but  let  it  be  in  some  lonely 


202  ELBOW-ROOM. 

place  far  from  the  turmoil  and  trouble  of  the  world — 
some  place  where  the  grass  grows  green  and  where 
the  birds  come  to  carol  in  the  early  spring-time. 

Mr.  Potts  asked  him  if  he  preferred  a  deep  or  a 
shallow  grave ;  but  Mr.  Lamb  said  it  made  very 
little  difference — when  the  spirit  was  gone,  the  mere 
earthly  clay  was  of  little  account.  He  owed  seventy 
cents  for  billiards  down  at  the  saloon,  and  Potts  was 
to  pay  that  out  of  the  money  in  his  hands,  and  to 
request  the  clergyman  not  to  preach  a  sermon  at  the 
cemetery.  Then  he  shook  hands  with  Potts  and 
went  away  to  his  awful  doom. 

The  next  morning  Mr.  Potts  wrote  to  Julia,  stop 
ped  in  to  tell  them  at  the  store,  and  nearly  killed 
Mrs.  Lamb  with  the  intelligence.  Then  he  borrowed 
Bradley's  wagon ;  and  taking  with  him  the  coroner, 
he  drove  out  to  the  beach,  just  below  the  gas-works, 
to  fetch  home  the  mutilated  corpse.  When  they 
reached  the  spot,  the  body  was  not  there,  and  Potts 
said  he  was  very  much  afraid  it  had  been  washed 
away  by  the  flood  tide.  So  they  drove  up  to  Key- 
ser's  house,  about  half  a  mile  from  the  shore,  to  ask 
if  any  of  the  folks  there  had  heard  the  fatal  pistol- 
shot  or  seen  the  body. 

On  going  around  to  the  wood-pile  they  saw  Keyser 
holding  a  terrier  dog  backed  close  up  against  a  log. 
The  dog's  tail  was  lying  across  the  log,  and  another 
man  had  the  axe  uplifted.  A  second  later  the  axe 
descended  and  cut  the  tail  off  close  to  the  dog,  and 
while  Keyser  restrained  the  frantic  animal,  the  other 


LOVE,   SUFFERING  AND   SUICIDE. 


203 


man  touched  the  bleeding  stump  with  caustic.     As 
they  let  the  dog  go  Potts  was  amazed  to  see  that  the 
chopper  was  the  wretched  suicide.     He  was 
amazed,  but  before  he  could  ask  any  ques 
tions  Peter  stepped  up  to  him  and  said, 
1  Hush-sh-sh  !      Don't   say  any 
thing     about     that     matter.      I 
thought    better    of    it.      The 
pistol  looked  so  blamed  dan 
gerous  when  I  cocked  it  that  I 


changed  my  mind  and  came  over  here  to  Keyser's 
to  stay  all  night.  I'm  going  to  live  just  to  spite 
that  Brown  girl." 


2O4  ELBOW-RO  OM. 

Then  the  coroner  said  that  he  didn't  consider  he 
had  been  treated  like  a  gentleman,  and  he  had  half 
a  notion  to  give  Mr.  Lamb  a  pounding.  But  they 
all  drove  home  in  the  wagon,  and  just  as  Mrs.  Lamb 
got  done  hugging  Peter  a  letter  was  handed  him 
containing  the  sonnet  he  had  sent  Julia.  She  re 
turned  it  with  the  remark  that  it  was  the  most  dread 
ful  nonsense  she  ever  read,  and  that  she  knew  he 
hadn't  courage  enough  to  kill  himself.  Then  Peter 
went  back  to  the  store,  and  was  surprised  to  find 
that  his  employers  had  so  little  emotion  as  to  dock 
him  for  half  a  day's  absence.  What  he  wants  now 
is  to  ascertain  if  he  cannot  compel  Potts  to  give  up 
that  watch.  Potts  says  he  has  too  much  respect  for 
the  memory  of  his  unfortunate  friend  to  part  with  it, 
but  Jie  is  really  sorry  now  that  he  ordered  that  tomb 
stone.  On  the  first  of  May,  Peter's  bleeding  heart 
had  been  so  far  stanched  as  to  enable  him  to  begin 
skirmishing  around  the  affections  of  a  girl  named 
Smith ;  and  if  she  refuses  him,  he  thinks  that  tomb 
stone  may  yet  come  into  play.  But  we  all  have  our 
doubts  about  it. 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

MR.  FOGG  AS  A  SPORTSMAN  AND  A  SPOUSE. 

]AME  was  so  plenty  about  our  neighbor 
hood  last  fall  that  Mr.  Fogg  determined 
to  become  a  sportsman.  He  bought  a 
double-barrel  gun,  and  after  trying  it  a 
few  times  by  firing  it  at  a  mark,  he  loaded  it  and 
placed  it  behind  the  hall  door  until  he  should  want 
it.  A  few  days  later  he  made  up  his  mind  to  go  out 
and  shoot  a  rabbit  or  two,  so  he  shouldered  his  gun 
and  strode  off  toward  the  open  country.  A  mile  or 
two  from  the  town  he  saw  a  rabbit ;  and  taking  a'im, 
he  pulled  the  trigger.  The  gun  failed  to  go  off. 
Then  he  pulled  the  other  trigger,  and  again  the  cap 
snapped.  Mr.  Fogg  used  a  strong  expression  of 
disgust,  and  then,  taking  a  pin,  he  picked  the  nipples 
of  the  gun,  primed  them  with  a  little  powder  and 
made  a  fresh  start.  Presently  he  saw  another  rabbit. 
He  took  good  aim,  but  both  caps  snapped.  The 
rabbit  did  not  see  Mr.  Fogg,  so  he  put  on  more  caps, 
and  they  snapped  too. 

Then  Mr.  Fogg  cleaned  out  the  nipples  again, 
primed  them  and  leveled  the  gun  at  a  fence.  The 
caps  snapped  again.  Then  Mr.  Fogg  became  furi- 

205 


206 


ELBOW-ROOM. 


ous,  and  in  his  rage  he  expended  forty-two  caps  try 
ing  to  make  the  gun  go  off.  When  the  forty-second 
cap  missed  also,  Mr.  Fogg  thought,  perhaps,  there 
might  be  something  the  matter  with  the  inside  of 
the  gun,  and  so  he  sounded  the  barrels  with  his 


ramrod.  To  his  utter  dismay,  he  discovered  that 
both  barrels  were  empty.  Mrs.  Fogg,  who  is 
nervous  about  firearms,  had  drawn  the  loads  without 
telling  Fogg.  The  language  used  by  Mr.  Fogg 
when  he  made  this  discovery  was  extremely  dis 
graceful,  and  he  felt  sorry  for  it  a  moment  after 
ward.  As  he  grew  cooler  he  loaded  both  barrels 


MR.   FOGG  AS  SPORTSMAN  AND  SPOUSE.    2O/ 

and  started  afresh  for  the  rabbits.  He  saw  one  in  a 
few  moments  and  was  about  to  fire,  when  he  noticed 
that  there  were  no  caps  on  the  gun.  He  felt  for  one, 
and,  to  his  dismay,  found  that  he  had  snapped  the 
last  one  off.  Then  he  ground  his  teeth  and  walked 
home.  On  his  way  he  saw  a  greater  number  of 
rabbits  than  he  ever  saw  before  or  is  likely  to  see 
again,  and  as  he  looked  at  them  and  thought  of  Mrs. 
Fogg  he  felt  mad  and  murderous.  He  went  gun 
ning  eight  or  ten  times  afterward  that  autumn, 
always  with  a  full  supply  of  ammunition,  but  he 
never  once  saw  a  rabbit  or  any  other  kind  of  game 
within  gun-shot. 

But  he  forgave  Mrs.  Fogg,  and  for  a  while  their 
domestic  peace  was  unruffled.  One  evening,  how 
ever,  while  they  were  sitting  together,  they  got  to 
talking  about  their  married  life  and  their  past  troubles 
until  both  of  them  grew  quite  sympathetic.  At  last 
Mrs.  Fogg  suggested  that  it  might  help  to  kindle 
afresh  the  fire  of  love  in  their  hearts  if  they  would 
freely  confess  their  faults  to  each  other  and  promise 
to  amend  them.  Mr.  Fogg  said  it  struck  him  as 
being  a  good  idea.  For  his  part,  he  was  willing  to 
make  a  clean  breast  of  it,  but  he  suggested  that  per 
haps  his  wife  had  better  begin.  She  thought  for  a 
moment,  and  this  conversation  ensued : 

"  Well,  then,"  said  Mrs.  Fogg,  "  I  am  willing  to 
acknowledge  that  I  am  the  worst-tempered  woman 
in  the  world." 

Mr.  Fogg  (turning  and  looking  at  her).   "  Maria, 


208 


ELBOW-ROOM. 


that's  about  the  only  time  you  ever  told  the  square- 
toed  truth  in  your  life." 

Mrs.  Fogg  (indignantly).  "  Mr.  Fogg,  that's  per 
fectly  outrageous.  You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of 
yourself." 

F.  "  Well,  you  know  it's  so.  You  have  got  the 
worst  temper  of  any  woman  I  ever  saw — the  very 
worst ;  now  haven't  you  ?" 


Mrs.  F.  "  No,  I  haven't,  either.     I'm  just  as  good- 
tempered  as  you  are." 

F.  "  That's  not  so.     You're  as   cross  as  a  bear. 


MR.   FOGG  AS  SPORTSMAN  AND  SPOUSE.   2OQ 

If  you  were  married  to  a  graven  image,  you'd  quar 
rel  with  it." 

Mrs.  F.  "  That's  an  outrageous  falsehood  !  There 
isn't  any  woman  about  this  neighborhood  that  puts 
up  with  as  much  as  I  do  without  getting  angry. 
You're  a  perfect  brute." 

F.  "  It's  you  that  is  the  brute." 

Mrs.  F.  "  No,  it  isn't." 

F.  "  Yes,  it  is.  You're  as  snappish  as  a  mad  dog. 
It's  few  men  that  could  live  with  you." 

Mrs.  F.  "  If  you  say  that  again,  I'll  scratch  your 
eyes  out." 

F.  "  I  dare  you  to  lay  your  hands  on  me,  you 
vixen." 

Mrs.  F.  "  You  do,  eh  ?  Well,  take  that !  and 
that "  (cuffing  him  on  the  head). 

F.  "  You  let  go  of  my  hair,  or  I'll  murder  you." 

Mrs.  F.  "  I  will ;  and  I'll  leave  this  house  this 
very  night;  I  won't  live  any  longer  with  such  a 
monster."  v  *•/; 

F.  "  Well,  quit ;  get  out.  The  sooner,  the  better. 
Good  riddance  to  bad  rubbish ;  and  take  your  clothes 
with  you." 

Mrs.  F.  "  I'm  sorry  I  ever  married  you.  You 
ain't  fit  to  be  yoked  with  any  decent  woman,  you 
wretch  you !" 

F.  "  Well,  you  ain't  half  as  sorry  as  I  am.  Good 
bye.  Don't  come  back  soon." 

Then  Mrs.  Fogg  put  on  her  bonnet  and  went 
around  to  her  mother's,  but  she  came  back  in  the 

14 


2IO  ELBOW-ROOM. 

morning.     Mr.  Fogg  hasn't  yet  confessed  what  his 
principal  failing  is. 

Mr.  Fogg's  life  has  been  very  troublous.  He  told 
me  that  he  had  a  fit  of  sleeplessness  one  night  lately, 
and  after  vainly  trying  to  lose  himself  in  slumber  he 
happened  to  remember  that  he  once  read  in  an  al 
manac  that  a  man  could  put  himself  to  sleep  by 
imagining  that  he  saw  a  lot  of  sheep  jumping  over 
a  fence,  and  by  counting  them  as  they  jumped.  He 
determined  to  try  the  experiment;  and  closing  his 
eyes,  he  fancied  the  sheep  jumping  and  began  to 
count.  He  had  reached  his  one  hundred  and  for 
tieth  sheep,  and  was  beginning  to  doze  off,  when 
Mrs.  Fogg  suddenly  said, 

"  Wilberforce !" 

"  Oh,  what  ?" 

"  I  believe  that  yellow  hen  of  ours  wants  to  set." 

"  Oh,  don't  bother  me  with  such  nonsense  as  that 
now !  Do  keep  quiet  and  go  to  sleep." 

Then  Mr.  Fogg  started  his  sheep  again  and  com 
menced  to  count.  He  got  up  to  one  hundred  and 
twenty,  and  was  feeling  as  if  he  would  drop  off  at 
any  moment,  when,  just  as  his  one  hundred  and 
twenty-first  sheep  was  about  to  take  that  fence,  the 
baby  began  to  cry. 

"  Hang  that  child !"  he  shouted  at  Mrs.  Fogg. 
"  Why  don't  you  tend  to  it  and  put  it  to  sleep  ? 
Hush,  you  little  imp,  or  I'll  spank  you !" 

When    Mrs.    Fogg   had   quieted    it,    Mr.    Fogg, 


MR.   FOGG  AS  SPORTSMAN  AND  SPOUSE.    211 

although  a  little  nervous  and  excited,  concluded  to 
try  it  again.  Turning  on  the  imaginary  mutton,  he 
began.  Only  sixty-four  sheep  had  slid  over  the 
fence,  when  Fogg's  aunt  knocked  at  the  door  and 
asked  if  he  was  awake.  When  she  learned  that  he 
was,  she  said  she  believed  he  had  forgotten  to  close 
the  back  shutters,  and  she  thought  she  heard  bur 
glars  in  the  yard. 

Then  Mr.  Fogg  arose  in  wrath  and  went  down  to 
see  about  it.  He  ascertained  that  the  shutters  were 
closed,  as  usual,  and  as  he  returned  to  bed  he  re 
solved  that  his  aunt  should  leave  the  house  for  good 
in  the  morning,  or  he  would.  However,  he  thought 
he  might  as  well  give  the  almanac-plan  another  trial ; 
and  setting  the  sheep  in  motion,  he  began  to  count. 
This  time  he  reached  two  hundred  and  forty,  and 
would  probably  have  got  to  sleep  before  the  three 
hundredth  sheep  jumped,  had  not  Mix's  new  dog,  in 
the  next  yard,  suddenly  become  home-sick  and  be 
gun  to  express  his  feelings  in  a  series  of  prolonged 
and  exasperating  howls. 

Mr.  Fogg  was  indignant.  Neglecting  the  sheep, 
he  leaped  from  bed  and  began  to  bombard  Mix's 
new  dog  with  boots,  soap-cups  and  every  loose  ob 
ject  he  could  lay  his  hands  on.  He  hit  the  animal 
at  last  with  a  plaster  bust  of  Daniel  Webster,  and 
induced  the  dog  to  retreat  to  the  stable  and  think 
about  home  in  silence. 

It  seemed  almost  ridiculous  to  resume  those  sheep 
again,  but  he  determined  to  give  the  almanac-man 


212  ELBOW-ROOM. 

one  more  chance,  and  soon  as  they  began  to  jump 
the  fence  he  began  to  count,  and  after  seeing  the 
eighty-second  sheep  safely  over  he  was  gliding 
gently  in  the  land  of  dreams,  when  Mrs.  Fogg  rolled 
out  of  bed  and  fell  on  the  floor  with  such  violence 
that  she  waked  the  baby  and  started  it  crying, 
while  Mr.  Fogg's  aunt  came  down  stairs  four  steps 
at  a  time  to  ask  if  they  felt  that  earthquake. 

The  situation  was  too  awful  for  words.  Mr.  Fogg 
regarded  it  for  a  minute  with  speechless  indignation, 
and  then,  seizing  a  pillow,  he  went  over  to  the  sofa 
in  the  back  sitting-room  and  lay  down. 

He  fell  asleep  in  ten  minutes  without  the  assist 
ance  of  the  almanac,  but  he  dreamed  all  night  that 
he  was  being  butted  around  the  equator  by  a  Cots- 
wold  ram,  and  he  woke  in  the  morning  with  a  ter 
rific  headache  and  a  conviction  that  sheep  are  good 
enough  for  wool  and  chops,  but  not  worth  anything 
as  a  narcotic. 

Mr.  Fogg  has  a  strong  tendency  to  exaggeration 
in  conversation,  and  he  gave  a  striking  illustration 
of  this  in  a  story  that  he  related  one  day  when  I 
called  at  his  house.  Fogg  was  telling  me  about  an 
incident  that  occurred  in  a  neighboring  town  a  few 
days  before,  and  this  is  the  way  he  related  it :  • 

"  You  see  old  Bradley  over  here  is  perfectly  crazy 
on  the  subject  of  gases  and  the  atmosphere  and  such 
things — absolutely  wild ;  and  one  day  he  was  disput 
ing  with  Green  about  how  high  up  in  the  air  life 


MR.   FOGG  AS  SPORTSMAN  AND  SPOUSE.   21 3 

could  be  sustained,  and  Bradley  said  an  animal  could 
live  about  forty  million  miles  above  the  earth  if — " 

"  Not  forty  millions,  my  dear,"  interposed  Mrs. 
F°gg ;  "  only  forty  miles,  he  said." 

"  Forty,  was  it  ?  Thank  you.  Well,  sir,  old  Green, 
you  know,  said  that  was  ridiculous;  and  he  said  he'd 
bet  Bradley  a  couple  of  hundred  thousand  dollars  that 
life  couldn't  be  sustained  half  that  way  up,  and  so — " 

"  Wilberforce,  you  are  wrong;  he  only  offered  to 
bet  fifty  dollars,"  said  Mrs.  Fogg. 

"  Well,  anyhow,  Bradley  took  him  up  quicker'n  a 
wink,  and  they  agreed  to  send  up  a  cat  in  a  balloon 
to  decide  the  bet.  So  what  does  Bradley  do  but  buy 
a  balloon  about  twice  as  big  as  our  barn  and  begin 


"  It  was  only  about  ten  feet  in  diameter,  Mr.  Ade- 
ler;  Wilberforce  forgets." 

"  — Begin  to  inflate  her.  When  she  was  filled,  it 
took  eighty  men  to  hold  her ;  and — " 

"  Eighty  men,  Mr.  Fogg !"  said  Mrs.  F.  "  Why, 
you  know  Mr.  Bradley  held  the  balloon  himself." 

"  He  did,  did  he  ?  Oh,  very  well ;  what's  the  odds  ? 
And  when  everything  was  ready,  they  brought  out 
Bradley's  tomcat  and  put  it  in  the  basket  and  tied  it 
in,  so  it  couldn't  jump,  you  know.  There  were  about 
one  hundred  thousand  people  looking  on;  and  when 
they  let  go,  you  never  heard  such — " 

"  There  was  not  one  more  than  two  hundred  peo 
ple  there,"  said  Mrs.  Fogg ;  "  I  counted  them  my 
self." 


214    -  ELBOW-ROOM. 

"Oh,  don't  bother  me! — I  say,  you  never  heard 
such  a  yell  as  the  balloon  went  scooting  up  into  the 
sky,  pretty  near  out  of  sight.  Bradley  said  she  went 
up  about  one  thousand  miles,  and — now,  don't  inter 
rupt  me,  Maria;  I  know  what  the  man  said — and  that 
cat,  mind  you,  howling  like  a  hundred  fog-horns,  so's 
you  could  a  heard  her  from  here  to  Peru.  Well,  sir, 
when  she  was  up  so's  she  looked  as  small  as  a  pin- 
head  something  or  other  burst.  I  dunno  know 
how  it  was,  but  pretty  soon  down  came  that  balloon, 
a-hurtling  toward  the  earth  at  the  rate  of  fifty  miles  a 
minute,  and  old — " 

"  Mr.  Fogg,  you  know  that  the  balloon  came  down 
as  gently  as — " 

"  Oh,  do  hush  up !  Women  don't  know  anything 
about  such  things. — And  old  Bradley,  he  had  a  kind 
of  registering  thermometer  fixed  in  the  basket  along 
with  that  cat — some  sort  of  a  patent  machine ;  cost 
thousands  of  dollars — and  he  was  expecting  to  ex 
amine  it ;  and  Green  had  an  idea  he'd  lift  out  a  dead 
cat  and  take  in  the  stakes.  When  all  of  a  sudden, 
as  she  came  pelting  down,  a  tornado  struck  her — 
now,  Maria,  what  in  the  thunder  are  you  staring  at 
me  in  that  way  for?  It  was  a  tornado — a  regular 
cyclone — and  it  struck  her  and  jammed  her  against 
the  lightning-rod  on  the  Baptist  church-steeple;  and 
there  she  stuck — stuck  on  that  spire  about  eight 
hundred  feet  up  in  the  air,  and  looked  as  if  she  had 
come  there  to  stay." 

"  You  may  get  just  as  mad  as  you  like,"  said  Mrs. 


MR.   FOGG   AS  SPORTSMAN  AND   SPOUSE.    21 5 

Fogg,  "  but  I  am  positively  certain  that  steeple's  not 
an  inch  over  ninety-five  feet." 

"  Maria,  I  wish  to  gracious  you'd  go  up  stairs  and 
look  after  the  children. — Well,  about  half  a  minute 
after  she  struck  out  stepped  that  tomcat  onto  the 
weathercock.  It  made  Green  sick.  And  just  then 
the  hurricane  reached  the  weathercock,  and  it  be 
gan  to  revolve  six  hundred  or  seven  hundred  times 
a  minute,  the  cat  howling  until  you  couldn't  hear 
yourself  speak. — Now,  Maria,  you've  had  your  put; 
you  keep  quiet. — That  cat  stayed  on  the 'weathercock 
about  two  months — " 

"  Mr.  Fogg,  that's  an  awful  story ;  it  only  hap 
pened  last  Tuesday." 

"  Never  mind  her,"  said  Mr.  Fogg,  confidentially. — 
"  And  on  Sunday  the  way  that  cat  carried  on  and 
yowled,  with  its  tail  pointing  due  east,  was  so  awful 
that  they  couldn't  have  church.  And  Sunday  after 
noon  the  preacher  told  Bradley  if  he  didn't  get  that 
cat  down  he'd  sue  him  for  one  million  dollars  dam 
ages.  So  Bradley  got  a  gun  and  shot  at  the  cat 
fourteen  hundred  times. — Now  you  didn't  count  'em, 
Maria,  and  I  did. — And  he  banged  the  top  of  the  stee 
ple  all  to  splinters,  and  at  last  fetched  down  the  cat, 
shot  to  rags  ;  and  in  her  stomach  he  found  his  ther 
mometer.  She'd  ate  it  on  her  way  up,  and  it  stood 
at  eleven  hundred  degrees,  so  old — " 

"  No  thermometer  ever  stood  at  such  a  figure  as 
that,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Fogg. 

"  Oh,  well,"  shouted  Mr.  Fogg,  indignantly,'*  if  you 


216 


ELBOW-ROOM. 


think  you  can  tell  the  story  better  than  I  can,  why 
don't  you  tell  it  ?  You're  enough  to  worry  the  life 
out  of  a  man." 

Then  Fogg  slammed  the  door  and  went  out,  and 
I  left.  I  don't  know  whether  Bradley  got  the  stakes 
or  not. 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

HOW  WE  CONDUCT  A  POLITICAL  CAMPAIGN. 

|HE  people  of  Millburg  feel  a  very  intense 
interest  in  politics,  and  during  a  campaign 
there  is  always  a  good  deal  of  excitement. 
The  bitterest  struggle  that  the  town  has 
had  for  a  long  while  was  that  which  preceded  the 
election  of  a  couple  of  years  ago,  when  I  was  not  a 
resident  of  the  place.  One  incident  particularly  at 
tracted  a  good  deal  of  attention.  Mr.  Potts  related 
the  facts  to  me  in  the  following  language : 

"You  know  we  nominated  Bill  Slocum  for  bur 
gess.  He  was  the  most  popular  man  in  the  place ; 
everybody  liked  him.  And  a  few  days  after  the  con 
vention  adjourned  Bill  was  standing  talking  to  Joe 
Snowden  about  the  election,  and  Bill  happened  to 
remark,  '  I've  got  to  win.'  Mrs.  Martin  was  going 
by  at  the  time ;  and  as  Bill  was  speaking  very  rapidly, 
he  pronounced  it  like  this  :  '  I've  got  t'win;'  and  Mrs. 
Martin  thought  he  was  telling  Snowden  that  he'd  got 
twins.  And  Mrs.  Martin,  just  like  all  women  about 
such  matters,  at  once  went  through  the  village 
spreading  the  report  that  Mrs.  Slocum  had  twins. 

"  So,  of  course,  there  was  a  fuss  right  off;  and  the 

217 


218  ELBOW-ROOM. 

boys  said  that  as  Bill  was  a  candidate,  and  a  mighty 
good  fellow  anyhow  you  took  him,  it'd  be  nothing 
more  than  fair  to  congratulate  him  on  his  good  luck 
by  getting  up  some  kind  of  a  public  demonstration 
from  his  fellow-citizens.  Well,  sir,  you  never  saw 
such  enthusiasm.  The  way  that  idea  took  was  won 
derful,  and  all  hands  agreed  that  we  ought  to  have  a 
parade.  So  they  ran  up  the  flags  on  the  hotels  and 
the  town-hall,  and  on  the  two  schooners  down  at  the 
wharf,  and  Judge  Twiddler  adjourned  the  court  over 
till  the  next  day,  and  the  supervisors  gave  the  public 
schools  a  holiday  and  got  up  a  turkey  dinner  for  the 
convicts  in  the  jail. 

"And  some  of  the  folks  drummed  up  the  brass 
band,  and  it  led  ofT,  with  Major  Slott  following,  car 
rying  an  American  flag  hung  with  roses.  Then  came 
the  clergy  in  carriages,  followed  by  the  Masons  and 
Odd  Fellows  and  Knights  of  Pythias.  And  the 
Young  Men's  Christian  Association  turned  out  with 
the  Sons  of  Temperance,  about  forty  strong,  in  full 
regalia.  And  General  Trumps  pranced  along  on  a 
white  horse  ahead  of  the  Millburg  Guards.  After 
them  came  the  judges  on  foot,  followed  by  the  City 
Council  and  the  employes  of  the  gas-works,  and 
the  members  of  the  Bible  Society  and  Patriotic  Sons 
of  America.  Then  came  citizens  walking  two  and 
two,  afoot,  while  a  big  crowd  of  men  and  boys 
brought  up  the  rear. 

"  The  band,  mind  you,  all  this  time  playing  the 
most  gorgeous  music — 'Star-Spangled  Banner/  '  Life 


A  POLITICAL   CAMPAIGN.  21$ 

on  the  Ocean  Wave/  4  Beautiful  Dreamer,'  '  Home 
Again/  and  all  those  things,  with  cymbals  and  Jen- 
kins'  colored  man  spreading  himself  on  the  big 
drum.  And  Bill  never  knew  anything  about  it.  It 
was  a  perfect  surprise  to  him.  And  when  the  pro 
cession  stopped  in  front  of  his  house,  they  gave  him 
three  cheers,  and  he  came  rushing  out  on  the  porch 
to  see  what  all  the  noise  was  about.  As  soon  as  he 
appeared  the  band  struck  up  '  See,  the  Conquering 
Hero  Comes/  and  Major  Slott  lowered  the  flag,  and 
General  Trumps  waved  his  hat,  and  the  guard  fired 
a  salute,  and  everybody  cheered. 

"  Bill  bowed  and  made  a  little  speech,  and  said 
how  honored  he  was  by  such  a  demonstration,  and 
he  said  he  felt  certain  of  victory,  and  when  he  was 
in  office  he  would  do  his  best  to  serve  his  fellow- 
citizens  faithfully.  Bill  thought  it  was  a  political 
serenade ;  and  when  he  got  through,  General  Trumps 
cried, 

"  '  Bring  out  the  twins.' 

"  Bill  looked  puzzled  for  a  minute,  and  then  he 
says, 

" '  I  don't  think  I  understand  you.  What  d'you 
say?' 

" '  Bring  out  the  twins/  said  Judge  Twiddler. 
'  Less  look  at  'em.' 

"  '  Twins  !'  says  Bill.  '  Twins  !  Why,  what  d'ye 
mean,  judge?' 

,"• '  Why,  the  twins.  Rush  'em  out.  Hold  'em  in 
the  window,  so's  we  can  see  'em/  said  Major  Slott. 


22O  ELBOW-ROOM. 

"  '  Gentlemen,'  said  Bill, '  there  must  be  <?cn*e  little, 
some  slight  mistake  respecting  the — that  is,  you  must 
have  been  misinformed  about  the — the — er — er — 
Why,  there  are  no  twins  about  this  house.' 

"  Then  they  thought  he  was  joking,  and  the  band 
broke  in  with  '  Listen  to  the  Mocking-bird/  and 
Bill  came  down  to  find  out  the  drift  of  Judge  Twid 
dler's  remarks.  And  when  he  really  convinced  them 
that  there  wasn't  a  twin  anywhere  about  the  place, 
you  never  saw  a  worse  disgusted  crowd  in  your  life. 
Mad  as  fury.  They  said  they  had  no  idea  Bill 
Slocum  would  descend  to  such  trickery  as  that. 

"  So  they  broke  up.  The  judge  went  back  to  the 
court-room  so  indignant  he  sentenced  a  prisoner  for 
twenty  years,  when  the  law  only  allowed  him  to  give 
ten.  The  supervisors,  they  took  their  spite  out  by 
docking  the  school-teachers  half  a  day  and  cutting 
off  the  cranberry  sauce  from  the  turkey  dinner  at 
the  jail.  General  Trumps  got  drunk  as  an  owl.  The 
City  Councils  held  an  adjourned  meeting  and  raised 
the  water  rent  on  Slocum,  and  Jenkins'  nigger  burst 
in  the  head  of  the  big  drum  with  a  brick.  Mad's  no 
word  for  it.  They  were  wild  with  rage. 

"And  that  killed  Bill.  They  beat  him  by  two 
hundred  majority  at  the  election,  just  on  account  of 
old  Mrs.  Martin'  misunderstanding  him.  Rough, 
wasn't  it?  But  it  don't  seem  to  me  like  the  fair 
thing  on  Bill." 

Mr.  Slocum  was  defeated,  despite  the  fact  that  he 
wished  to  succeed.  Mr.  Walsh,  it  appears,  was  disap- 


A  POLITICAL    CAMPAIGN.  221 

pointed,  in  the  same  contest,  in  a  wholly  different 
manner.  Mr.  Walsh  was  the  predecessor  of  our 
present  coroner,  Mr.  Maginn.  How  Mr.  Walsh  was 
elected  he  informed  me  in  these  words : 

"  You  know,"  said  Mr.  Walsh,  "  that  I  didn't  want 
that  position.  When  they  talked  of  nominating  me, 
I  told  them,  says  I,  '  It's  no  use ;  you  needn't  elect 
me  ;  I'm  not  going  to  serve,  D'you  s'pose  I'm  go 
ing  to  give  up  a  respectable  business  to  become  a 
kind  of  State  undertaker  ?  I'm  opposed  to  this  post 
mortem  foolery,  any  way.  When  a  man's  blown  up 
with  gunpowder,  it  don't  interest  me  to  know  what 
killed  him  ;  so  you  needn't  make  me  coroner,  for  I 
won't  serve.' 

"  Well,  do  you  believe  that  they  persisted  in  nomi 
nating  me  on  the  Republican  ticket — actually  put  me 
up  as  a  candidate  ?  So  I  published  a  letter  declining 
the  nomination ;  but  they  absolutely  had  the  impu 
dence  to  keep  me  on  the  ticket  and  to  hold  mass-meet 
ings,  at  which  they  made  speeches  in  my  favor.  I  was 
pretty  mad  about  it,  because  it  showed  such  a  disregard 
of  my  feelings ;  and  so  I  chummed  in  with  the  Demo 
crats,  and  for  about  two  months  I  went  around  to 
the  Democratic  mass-meetings  and  spoke  against 
myself  and  in  favor  of  the,  opposition  candidate.  I 
thought  I  had  them  for  sure,  because  I  knew  more 
about  my  own  failings  than  those  other  fellows  did, 
and  I  enlarged  upon  them  until  I  made  myself  out — 
Well,  I  heaped  up  the  iniquity  until  I  used  to  go 
home  feeling  that  I  was  a  good  deal  wickeder  sinner 


222  ELBOW-ROOM. 

than  I  ever  thought  I  was  before.  It  did  me  good, 
too :  I  reformed.  I've  been  a  better  man  ever  since. 

"  Now,  you'd  a  thought  people  would  a  considered 
me  pretty  fair  authority  about  my  own  unfitness  for 
the  office,  but  hang  me  if  the  citizens  of  this  county 
positively  didn't  go  to  the  polls  and  elect  me  by 
about  eight  hundred  majority.  I  was  the  worst  dis 
appointed  of  any  man  you  ever  saw.  I  had  repeaters 
around  at  the  polls,  too,  voting  for  the  Democratic 
candidate,  and  I  paid  four  of  the  judges  to  falsify  the 
returns,  so  as  to  elect  him.  But  it  was  no  use;  the 
majority  was  too  big.  And  on  election  night  the 
Republican  executive  committee  came  round  to 
serenade  me,  and  as  soon  as  the  band  struck  up  \ 
opened  on  them  with  a  shot-gun  and  wounded  the 
bass  drummer  in  the  leg.  But  they  kept  on  playing ; 
and  after  a  while,  when  they  stopped,  they  poked 
some  congratulatory  resolutions  under  the  front 
door,  and  gave  me  three  cheers  and  went  home.  I 
was  never  so  annoyed  in  my  life. 

"Then  they  sent  me  round  my  Certificate  of  elec 
tion,  but  I  refused  to  receive  it ;  and  those  fellows 
seized  me  and  held  me  while  Harry  Hammer  pushed 
the  certificate  into  my  coat-pocket,  and  then  they  all 
quit.  The  next  day  a  man  was  run  over  on  the  rail 
road,  and  they  wanted  me  to  tend  to  him.  But  I  was 
angry,  and  I  wouldn't.  So  what  does  the  sheriff"  do 
but  come  here  with  a  gang  of  police  and  carry  me 
out  there  by  force  ?  And  he  hunted  up  a  jury,  which 
brought  in  a  verdict.  Then  they  wanted  me  to  take 


A  POLITICAL    CAMPAIGN. 


223 


the  fees,  but  I  wouldn't  touch  them.  I  said  I  wasn't 
going  to  give  my  sanction  to  the  proceedings.  But 
of  course  it  was  no  use.  I  thought  I  was  living  in 


a  free  country,  but  I  wasn't.  The  sheriff  drew  the 
money  and  got  a  mandamus  from  the  court,  and  he 
came  here  one  day  while  I  was  at  dinner.  When  I 
said  I  wouldn't  touch  a  dollar  of  it,  he  drew  a  pistol 
and  said  if  I  didn't  take  the  money  he'd  blow  my 


224  ELBOW-ROOM. 

brains  out.  So  what  was  a  man  to  do  ?  I  resigned 
fifteen  times,  but  somehow  those  resignations  were 
suppressed.  I  never  heard  from  them.  Well,  sir, 
at  last  I  yielded,  and  for  three  years  I  kept  skirmish 
ing  around,  perfectly  disgusted,  meditating  over  folks 
that  had  died  suddenly. 

"  And  do  you  know  that  on  toward  the  end  of  my 
term  they  had  the  face  to  try  to  nominate  me  again  ? 
It's  a  positive  fact.  Those  politicians  wanted  me  to 
run  again ;  said  I  was  the  most  popular  coroner  the 
county  ever  had ;  said  that  everybody  liked  my  way 
of  handling  a  dead  person,  it  was  so  full  of  feeling 
and  sympathy,  and  a  lot  more  like  that.  But  what 
did  I  do  ?  I  wasn't  going  to  run  any  such  risk  again. 
So  I  went  up  to  the  city,  and  the  day  before  the  con 
vention  met  I  sent  word  down  that  I  was  dead.  Cir 
culated  a  report  that  I'd  been  killed  by  falling  off  a 
ferry-boat.  Then  they  hung  the  convention-hall  in 
black  and  passed  resolutions  of  respect,  and  then 
they  nominated  Barney  Maginn. 

"'On  the  day  after  election  I  turned  up,  and  you 
never  saw  men  look  so  miserable,  so  cut  to  the 
heart,  as  those  politicians.  They  said  it  was  an  in 
famous  shame  to  deceive  them  in  that  way,  and  they 
declared  that  they'd  run  me  for  sheriff  at  the  next 
election  to  make  up  for  it.  If  they  do,  I'm  going  to 
move  for  good.  I'm  going  to  sail  for  Colorado,  or 
some  other  decent  place  where  they'll  let  a  man 
alone.  I'll  die  in  my  tracks  before  I'll  ever  take  an 
other  office  in  this  county.  I  will,  now  mind  me !" 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE  MATUTINAL  ROOSTER. 

IORATIO  remarks  to  Hamlet,  "The  morn 
ing  cock  crew  loud ;"  and  I  have  no  doubt 
he  did ;  he  always  does,  especially  if  he 
is  confined  during  the  performance  of  his 
vocal  exercises  to  a  narrow  city  yard  surrounded  by 
brick  walls  which  act  as  sounding-boards  to  carry 
the  vibrations  to  the  ears  of  a  sleeper  who  is  already 
restless  with  the  summer  heat  and  with  the  buzzing 
of  early  and  pertinacious  flies.  To  such  a  man, 
aroused  and  indignant,  there  comes  a  profound  con 
viction  that  the  urban  rooster  is  far  more  vociferous 
than  his  rural  brethren  ;  that  he  can  sing  louder,  hold 
on  longer  and  begin  again  more  quickly  than  the 
bucolic  cock  who  has  communed  only  with  nature 
and  known  no  envious  longings  to  outshriek  the 
morning  milkman  or  the  purveyor  of  catfish.  And 
he  who  is  thus  afflicted  perhaps  may  be  justified  if 
he  regards  "  the  cock,  that  trumpet  of  the  morn,"  as 
an  insufferable  nuisance,  whose  only  excuse  for  ex 
istence  is  that  he  is  pleasant  to  the  eye  and  the  palate 
when,  bursting  with  stuffing,  he  lies,  brown  and  crisp, 
among  the  gravy,  ready  for  the  carving-knife. 

15  225 


226  ELBOW-ROOM. 

But  the  man  who  is  fortunate  enough  to  dwell  in 
the  country  during  the  ardent  summer  days  takes  a 
different  and  more  kindly  view  of  chanticleer.  If  he 
is  waked  early  in  the  morning  by  the  clarion  voice 
of  some  neighboring  cock,  he  will  not  repine,  pro 
vided  he  went  to  bed  at  a  reasonably  early  hour,  for 
he  will  hear  some  music  that  is  not  wholly  to  be  de 
spised.  The  rooster  in  the  neighboring  barn-yard 
gives  out  the  theme.  His  voice  is  a  deep,  but  broken, 
bass.  It  is  suggestive  of  his  having  roosted  during 
the  night  in  a  draft,  which  has  inflamed  his  vocal 
chords  so  that  his  tones  have  lost  their  sweetness. 
It  is  as  if  a  coffee-mill  had  essayed  to  crow.  The 
theme  is  taken  up  by  a  thin-voiced  rooster  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  away,  and  scarcely  has  he  reached  the  con 
cluding  note  before  a  baritone  cock,  a  little  more 
remote,  repeats  the  cadence,  only  to  have  his  song 
broken  in  upon  by  a  nearer  bird  who  understands 
exactly  the  part  he  is  to  play  in  the  fugue.  And  so 
it  passes  on  from  the  one  to  the  other,  growing 
fainter  and  fainter  in  the  distance  as  Shanghai  sings 
to  Bantam  and  Chittagong  to  Brahmapootra,  until,  at 
last,  there  is  silence;  and  then,  "O  hark!  O  hear! 
How  thin  and  clear!"  far,  far  away  some  rooster 
sends  out  a  delicate  falsetto  note  that  might  have 
come  from  a  microscopic  cock  who  is  practicing 
ventriloquism  in  the  cellar.  Instantly  the  catarrhal 
chicken  in  the  next  yard  begins  the  refrain  again 
with  his  hoarse  voice;  and  then  again  and  again  the 
fugue  goes  round,  never  tiring  the  listener,  but  al- 


THE  MATUTINAL   ROOSTER.  22? 

ways  growing  more  musical,  until  the  sun  is  fairly 
up,  the  hens  awake  and  the  scratching  of  the  day  is 
ready  to  begin. 

The  note  of  the  cock  has  been  misrepresented. 
Shakespeare,  following  usage,  perhaps,  has  given  it 
as  "  cock-a-doodle-doo,"  and  that  is  the  accepted 
interpretation  of  it.  But  this  does  not  convey  the 
proper  impression.  We  should  say  that  if  human 
syllables  can  tell  the  story  they  would  assume  some 
such  form  as  : 

Ooauk-auk-auk-au-au-au-auk  ! 

It  is  a  song  that  ought  to  be  studied  and  glorified 
in  print.  Think  what  a  history  it  has  !  That  iden 
tical  combination  of  sounds  which  wakes  and  mad 
dens  the  sleeping  citizen  of  to-day  was  heard  by 
Noah  and  his  family  with  precisely  the  same  ca 
dence  and  accent  in  the  ark.  It  was  that  very  crow 
that  Peter  heard  when  he  had  denied  his  Master.  It 
is  a  crow  that  has  come  down  to  us  from  Eden  al 
most  without  a  moment's  intermission.  It  is  a  crow 
which  has  passed  round  the  world  century  after  cen 
tury,  and  now  passes,  as  the  herald  of  the  coming 
of  the  sun.  It  may  yet  be  made  the  theme  of  a 
majestic  musical  composition,  now  that  Wagner  has 
come  to  teach  men  how  to  build  a  lyric  drama  upon 
a  phrase.  Perhaps  the  coming  American  national 
song  may  have  this  familiar  crow  for  its  inspiration 
and  its  burden.  We  might  do  worse,  perhaps,  than 
to  take  the  rooster  for  our  national  bird,  even  if  we 
reject  his  song  as  the  basis  of  our  national  anthem. 


228 


ELBOW-ROOM. 


We  took  our  eagle  from  Rome,  as  France  did  hers ; 
would  it  not  have  been  wiser  if  we  had  taken  the 
cock  instead,  as  France  did  after  the  Revolution? 
The  Romans  and  Greeks  regarded  the  cock  as  a 
sacred  bird.  The  principal  thing  that  the  average 
school-boy  remembers  about  Socrates  is  that  he 
killed  himself  immediately  after  ordering  that  a  cock 
should  be  sacrificed  to  y£sculapius  ;  and  some  have 
held  that  the  reason  of  his  suicide 
was  the  vociferousness  of  the  cock, 
which  he  wanted  to  kill  in  revenge 
for  the  misery  it  had  caused  him 
while  he  was  trying  to  sleep  or  to 
think. 

The  cock  is  a  braver  bird  than 
the  eagle.  He  has  ever  been  a 
bold  and  ready  warrior,  and  has 
worn  a  warrior's  spurs  from  the 
beginning.  He  has  one  high  sol 
dierly  quality :  he  knows  when  he 
is  whipped ;  for  who  has  not  seen 
him,  when  defeated  in  a  gallant 
contest,  sneak  away  to  a  distant 
corner  to  stand,  with  ruffled  feathers,  upon  a  single 
leg,  the  very  picture  of  humiliation  and  despair? 
And  he  is  vigilant,  for  has  he  not  for  ages  revolved 
upon  church-steeples  as  the  emblem  of  watchfulness? 
He  has  the  homelier  virtues.  He  is  a  kind  father 
and  a  fond  as  well  as  a  multitudinous  husband.  He 
knows  how  to  protect  his  family  from  errant  and  dis- 


THE  MATUTINAL  ROOSTER.  22$ 

reputable  roosters,  and  he  is  always  willing  to  stand 
aside  with  unsatisfied  appetite  and  permit  them  to 
devour  a  dainty  he  has  found.  He  is  useful  and 
admirable  in  his  relation  to  this  world,  and  he  is  not 
without  value  to  the  next,  for  popular  belief  has 
credited  him  with  the  office  of  warning  revisiting 
spirits  to  retire  from  the  earth ;  and  when  he  crows 
all  through  the  night,  the  Katie  Kings  and  other 
ghostly  persons  who  come  from  space  to  rap  upon 
tables  and  evoke  discordant  twangs  from  guitars  are 
deaf  to  the  seductive  entreaties  of  the  mediums. 
When 

"  This  bird  of  dawning  singeth  all  night  long, 
.  .  .  then  they  say  no  spirit  dares  stir  abroad." 

Perhaps  the  true  method  of  expelling  Satan  from 
the  land  and  of  reforming  the  corruption  which 
afflicts  the  country  is  to  place  the  cock  upon  our 
standards  and  to  offer  him  inducements  to  crow  per 
petually.  There  should  be  something  to  that  effect 
in  the  political  platforms.  A  goose  saved  Rome; 
why  should  not  a  rooster  rescue  America  ?  Let  the 
patriot  who  curses  the  noisy  bird  which  crows  him 
from  his  drowsy  couch  at  an  unseemly  hour  think 
of  these  things  and  allay  his  wrath  with  reflections 
upon  the  well-deserved  glories  of  the  matutinal 
rooster. 

I  have  one  neighbor  who  does  not  regard  the 
crowing  cock  with  proper  enthusiasm — who  is  indeed 
inclined  to  look  upon  it  with  disgust ;  but  as  he  has 
been  a  victim  of  the  bird's  vociferousness,  perhaps  his 


230  ELBOW-ROOM. 

sentiments  of  dislike  for  the  proud  bird  may  be 
excused. 

The  agricultural  society  of  our  county  held  a 
poultry  show  last  fall,  and  Mr.  Butterwick,  who  is  a 
member  of  the  society,  was  invited  to  deliver  the 
address  at  the  commencement  of  the  fair.  Mr.  But 
terwick  prepared  what  he  considered  a  very  learned 
paper  upon  the  culture  of  domestic  fowls ;  and  when 
the  time  arrived,  he  was  on  the  platform  ready  to 
enlighten  the  audience.  The  birds  were  arranged 
around  the  hall  in  cages ;  and  when  the  exhibition 
had  been  formally  opened  by  the  chairman,  the  orator 
came  forward  with  his  manuscript  in  his  hand.  Just 
as  he  began  to  read  it  a  black  Poland  rooster  close 
to  the  stage  uttered  a  loud  and  defiant  crow.  There 
were  about  two  hundred  roosters  in  the  hall,  and 
every  one  of  them  instantly  began  to  crow  in  the 
most  vehement  manner,  and  the  noise  excited  the 
hens  so  much  that  they  all  cackled  as  loudly  they 
could. 

Of  course  the  speaker's  voice  could  not  be  heard, 
and  he  came  to  a  dead  halt,  while  the  audience 
laughed.  After  waiting  for  ten  minutes  silence  was 
again  obtained,  and  Butterwick  began  a  second  time. 

As  soon  as  he  had  uttered  the  words  "  Ladies  and 
gentlemen,"  the  Poland  rooster,  which  seemed  to 
have  a  grudge  against  the  speaker,  emitted  another 
preposterous  crow,  and  all  the  other  fowls  in  the 
room  joined  in  the  deafening  chorus.  The  audience 
roared,  and  Butterwick  grew  red  in  the  face  with 


THE  MATUTINAL   ROOSTER.  23! 

passion.  But  when  the  noise  subsided,  he  went  at 
it  again,  and  got  as  far  as  "  Ladies  and  gentlemen, 
the  domestic  barn-yard  fowl  affords  a  subject  of  the 
highest  interest  to  the — "  when  the  Poland  rooster 
became  engaged  in  a  contest  with  an  overgrown 
Shanghai  chicken,  and  this  set  the  hens  of  the 
combatants  to  cackling,  and  in  a  moment  the  entire 
collection  was  in  another  uproar.  This  was  too 
much.  Mr.  Butterwick  was  beside  himself  with 
rage.  He  flung  down  his  manuscript,  rushed  to  the 
cage,  and  shaking  his  fist  at  the  Poland  chicken  ex 
claimed, 

"  You  diabolical  fiend,  I've  half  a  mind  to  murder 
you !" 

Then  he  kicked  the  cage  to  pieces  with  his  foot, 
and  seizing  the  rooster  twisted  its  neck  and  flung  it 
on  the  floor.  Then  he  fled  from  the  hall,  followed 
by  peals  of  laughter  from  the  audience  and  more 
terrific  clatter  from  the  fowls.  The  exhibition  was 
opened  without  further  ceremony,  and  the  disser 
tation  on  the  domestic  barn-yard  fowl  was  ordered 
to  be  printed  in  the  annual  report  of  the  proceedings 
of  the  society. 

One  day  while  I  was  talking  with  Mr.  Keyser 
upon  the  subject  of  the  cock  he  pointed  to  a  chicken 
that  was  roosting  upon  an  adjoining  fence,  and  told 
me  a  story  about  the  fowl  that  I  must  refuse  to 
believe. 

"  Perhaps  you  never  noticed  that  rooster,"  said 
Keyser — "  very  likely  you  wouldn't  have  observed 


232 


ELBOW-ROOM. 


him ;  but  I  don't  care  in  what  light  you  look  at  him, 
the  more  you  study  him,  the  more  talented  he  ap 
pears.  You  talk  about  your  American  iggles  and 
birds  of  freedom,  but  that  insignificant-looking 
chicken  yonder  can  give  any  of  them  twenty  points 
and  pocket  them  at  the  first  shot.  That  rooster  has 
traits  of  character  that'd  adorn  almost  any  walk  of 
life. 

"  Most  chickens   are  kinder   stupid ;   but  what  I 


THE  MATUTINAL   ROOSTER. 

like  about  him  is  that  he  is  sympathetic,  he  has  feel 
ing.  I  know  last  fall  that  my  Shanghai  hen  was 
taken  sick  while  she  was  trying  to  hatch  out  some 
eggs,  and  that  rooster  was  so  compassionate  that  he 
used  to  go  in  and  set  on  that  nest  for  hours,  trying 
to  help  her  out,  so  that  she  could  go  off  recreating 
after  exercise.  And  when  she  died,  he  turned  right 
in  and  took  charge  of  things — seemed  to  feel  that 
he  ought  to  be  a  father  to  those  unborn  little  or 
phans  ;  and  he  straddled  around  over  those  eggs  for 
ever  so  long.  He  never  got  much  satisfaction  out 
of  it,  though.  Most  of  them  were  duck  eggs,  and  it 
seemed  to  kinder  cut  him  up  when  he  looked  at 
those  birds  after  they  hatched  out.  He  took  it  to 
heart,  and  appeared  to  feel  low-spirited  and  afflicted. 
He  would  go  off  and  stand  by  himself — stand  on  one 
leg  in  a  corner  of  the  fence  and  let  his  mind  brood 
over  his  troubles  until  you'd  pity  him.  It  disgusted 
him  to  think  how  the  job  turned  out. 

"  Now,  you  wouldn't  think  such  a  chicken  as  that 
would  have  much  courage,  but  he'd  just  as  leave 
fight  a  wagon-load  of  tigers  as  not.  He  got  a  notion 
in  his  head  that  that  rooster  over  there  on  the  Bap 
tist  church-steeple  was  alive,  and  he  couldn't  bear  to 
think  that  it  was  up  there  sailing  around  and  putting 
on  airs  over  him,  and  a  good  many  times  I've  seen 
him  try  to  fly  up  at  it,  so's  to  arrange  a  fight.  When 
he  found  he  couldn't  make  it,  he'd  crow  at  the  Bap 
tist  rooster  and  dare  it  to  come  down,  and  at  last, 
when  all  his  efforts  were  useless,  would  you  believe 


234  ELBOW-ROOM. 

that  rooster  one  day  attacked  the  sexton  as  the 
weathercock's  next  friend,  and  drove  his  spurs  so 
far  into  the  sexton's  shanks  that  he  walked  on 
crutches  for  more'n  a  week  ?  I  never  saw  a  mere 
chicken  have  such  fine  instincts  and  such  pluck. 

"  He  is  a  splendid  fighter,  anyway,  just  as  he 
stands.  Why,  he  had  a  little  fuss  with  Murphy's 
Poland  rooster  here  some  time  back,  and  instead  of 
going  at  him  and  taking  the  chances  of  getting 
whipped,  that  chicken  actually  put  himself  into 
training,  ate  nothing  but  corn,  took  regular  exercise, 
went  to  roost  early,  took  a  cold  bath  every  morning 
and  got  a  pullet  to  rub  him  down  with  a  corn-cob. 
It  was  wonderful ;  and  in  a  week  or  so  he  was  all 
bone  and  muscle,  and  he  flickered  over  the  fence 
after  Murphy's  rooster  and  sent  him  whizzing  into 
the  next  world  on  the  fourth  round. 

"  I  never  knew  such  a  rooster.  Now,  do  you  know 
*  I  believe  that  chicken  actually  takes  an  interest  in 
politics  ?  Oh,  you  may  laugh,  but  last  fall  during 
the  campaign  he  was  so  excited  about  something 
that  he  couldn't  eat,  and  the  night  they  had  the  Re 
publican  mass-meeting  here  he  roosted  on  the  chan 
delier  in  the  hall,  and  every  time  General  Trumps 
made  a  good  point  that  chicken  would  cackle  and 
flap  his  wings,  as  much  as  to  say,  '  Them's  my  sen 
timents  !'  And  on  the  day  of  the  parade  he  turned 
out  and  followed  the  last  wagon,  keeping  step  with 
the  music  and  never  dropping  out  of  line  but  once, 
when  he  stopped  to  fight  a  Democratic  rooster  be- 


THE  MATUTINAL   ROOSTER.  23$ 

longing  to  old  Byerly,  who  was  on  the  Democratic 
ticket.  And  in  the  morning,  after  the  Republicans 
won,  he  just  got  on  the  fence  out  here  and  crowed 
so  vociferously  you  could've  heard  him  across  the 
river,  particularly  when  I  ran  up  the  American  flag 
and  read  the  latest  returns. 

"  Yes,  sir.  Now,  I  know  you'll  think  it's  ridicu 
lous  when  I  tell  you,  but  it's  an  actual  fact,  that  that 
very  day  my  daughter  was  playing  the  '  Star-span 
gled  Banner '  on  the  piano,  and  that  rooster,  when 
he  heard  it,  came  scudding  into  the  parlor,  and  after 
flipping  up  on  the  piano  he  struck  out  and  crowed 
that  tune  just  as  natural  as  if  he  was  an  educated 
musician.  Positive  truth ;  and  he  beat  time  with  his 
tail.  He  don't  crow  like  any  other  rooster.  Every 
morning  he  works  off  selections  from  Beethoven  and 
Mozart  and  those  people,  and  on  Sundays  he  fre 
quently  lets  himself  out  on  hymn-tunes.  I've  known 
him  to  set  on  that  fence  for  more'n  an  hour  at  a  time 
practicing  the  scales,  and  he  nearly  kicked  another 
rooster  to  death  one  day  because  that  rooster  crowed 
flat.  I  saw  him  do  it  myself.  And  now  I  really 
must  be  going.  Good-morning." 

I  think  I  shall  send  out  and  kill  that  rooster  at  the 
first  opportunity.  I  want  Keyset  to  have  one  thing 
less  to  fib  about.  He  has  too  much  variety  at 
present. 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

AN  UNRUL  Y  METER.— SCENES  IN  A  SANCTUM. 

(URING  one  of  the  cold  spells  of  last  win 
ter  the  gas-meter  in  my  cellar  was  frozen. 
I  attempted  to  thaw  it  out  by  pouring  hot 
water  over  it,  but  after  spending  an  hour 
upon  the  effort  I  emerged  from  the  contest  with  the 
meter  with  my  feet  and  trousers  wet,  my  hair  full  of 
dust  and  cobwebs  and  my  temper  at  fever  heat. 
After  studying  how  I  should  get  rid  of  the  ice  in 
the  meter,  I  concluded  to  use  force  for  the  purpose, 
and  so,  seizing  a  hot  poker,  I  jammed  it  through  a 
vent-hole  and  stirred  it  around  inside  of  the  meter 
with  a  considerable  amount  of  vigor.  I  felt  the  ice 
give  way,  and  I  heard  the  wheels  buzz  around  with 
rather  more  vehemence  than  usual.  Then  I  went  up 
stairs. 

I  noticed  for  three  or  four  days  that  the  internal 
machinery  of  the  meter  seemed  to  be  rattling  around 
in  a  remarkable  manner ;  it  could  be  heard  all  over 
the  house.  But  I  was  pleased  to  find  that  it  was 
working  again  in  spite  of  the  cold  weather,  and  I 
retained  my  serenity. 

236 


AN  UNRULY  METER. 

About  two  weeks  afterward  my  gas-bill  came.  It 
accused  me  of  burning  during  the  quarter  about  one 
million  five  hundred  thousand  feet  of  gas,  and  it 
called  on  me  to  settle  to  the  extent  of  nearly  three 
hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars.  I  put  on  my  hat 
and  went  down  to  the  gas-office.  I  addressed  one 
of  the  clerks : 

"  How  much  gas  did  you  make  at  the  Blank  works 
last  quarter  ?" 

"  I  dunno ;  about  a  million  feet,  I  reckon." 

"  Well,  you  have  charged  me  in  my  bill  for  burn 
ing  half  a  million  more  than  you  made ;  I  want  you 
to  correct  it." 

"  Less  see  the  bill.  Hm — m — m  !  this  is  all  right. 
It's  taken  off  of  the  meter.  That's  what  the  meter 
says." 

"  S'pose'n  it  does ;  I  couldn't  have  burned  more'n 
you  made." 

"  Can't  help  that ;  the  meter  can't  lie." 

"  Well,  but  how  d'you  account  for  the  difference?" 

"  Dunno ;  'tain't  our  business  to  go  nosing  and 
poking  around  after  scientific  truth.  We  depend  on 
the  meter.  If  that  says  you  burned  six  million  feet, 
why,  you  must  have  burned  it,  even  if  we  never  made 
a  foot  of  gas  out  at  the  works." 

"  To  tell  you  the  honest  truth,"  said  I,  "the  meter 
was  frozen,  and  I  stirred  it  up  with  a  poker  and  set  it 
whizzing  around." 

"  Price  just  the  same,"  said  the  clerk.  "We  charge 
for  pokers  just  as  we  do  for  gas." 


238  ELBOW-ROOM. 

"  You  are  not  actually  going  to  have  the  audacity 
to  ask  me  to  pay  three  hundred  and  fifty  thousand 
dollars  on  account  of  that  poker  ?" 

"  If  it  was  seven  hundred  thousand  dollars,  I'd  take 
it  with  a  calmness  that  would  surprise  you.  Pay  up, 
or  we'll  turn  off  your  gas." 

"  Turn  it  off  and  be  hanged,"  I  exclaimed  as  I 
emerged  from  the  office,  tearing  the  bill  to  fragments. 
Then  I  went  home;  and  grasping  that  too  lavish 
poker,  I  approached  the  meter.  It  had  registered 
another  million  feet  since  the  bill  was  made  out ;  it 
was  running  up  a  score  of  a  hundred  feet  a  minute ; 
in  a  month  I  would  have  owed  the  gas  company 
more  than  the  United  States  Government  owes  its 
creditors.  So  I  beat  the  meter  into  a  shapeless  mass, 
tossed  it  into  the  street  and  turned  off  the  gas  inside 
the  cellar. 

Then  I  went  down  to  the  Patriot  office  to  persuade 
Major  Slott  to  denounce  the  fraud  practiced  by  the 
company.  While  I  was  in  the  editorial  room  two  or 
three  visitors  came  in.  The  first  one  behaved  in  a 
violent  and  somewhat  mysterious  manner.  He 
saluted  the  major  by  throwing  a  chair  at  him.  Then 
he  seized  the  editor  by  the  hair,  bumped  his  head 
against  the  table  three  or  four  times  and  kicked  him. 
When  this  exhilarating  exercise  was  over,  the  visitor 
shook  his  fist  very  close  to  the  major's  nose  and 
said,  "  You  idiot  and  outcast,  if  you  don't  put  that 
notice  in  to-morrow,  I'll  come  round  here  and  mur 
der  you  !  Do  you  hear  me  ?"  Then  he  cuffed  the 


SCENES  IN  A  SANCTUM. 


239 


major's  ears  a  couple  of 'times,  kicked  him  some 
more,  emptied  the  ink-stand  over  his  head,  poured 
the  sand  from  the  sand-box  in  the  same  place, 
knocked  over  the  table  and  went  out.  During  all 
this  time  the  major  sat  still  with  a  sickly  kind  of  a 
smile  upon  his  face  and  never  uttered  a  word. 
When  the  man  left,  the  major  picked  up  the  table, 
wiped  the  ink  and  sand  from  his  face,  and  turning  to 
me  said, 

"  Harry  will  have  his  little  fun,  you  see." 
"  He  is  a  somewhat  exuberant  humorist,"  I  replied. 
"  What  was  the  object  of  the  joke  ?" 


240  ELBOW-ROOM. 

"  Well,  he's  going  to  sell  his  furniture  at  auction, 
and  I  promised  to  notice  the  fact  in  to-day's  Patriot, 
but  I  forgot  it,  and  he  called  to  remind  me  of  it." 

"  Do  all  of  your  friends  refresh  your  memory  in 
that  vivid  manner?  If  I'd  been  in  your  place,  I'd 
have  knocked  him  down." 

"  No,  you  wouldn't,"  said  Slott — "  no,  you  wouldn't. 
Harry  is  the  sheriff,  and  he  controls  two  thousand 
dollars'  worth  of  official  advertising.  I'd  sooner  he'd 
kick  me  from  here  to  Borneo  and  back  again  than  to 
take  that  advertising  away  from  the  Patriot.  What 
are  a  few  bumps  and  a  sore  shin  or  two  compared 
with  all  that  fatness?  No,  sir;  he  can  have  all  the 
fun  he  wants  out  of  me." 

The  next  visitor  was  less  demonstrative.  He  was 
tall  and  slender  and  clad  in  the  habiliments  of  woe. 
He  entered  the  office  and  took  a  chair.  Removing 
his  hat,  he  wiped  the  moisture  from  his  eyes,  rubbed 
his  nose  thoughtfully  for  a  moment,  put  his  hand 
kerchief  in  his  hat,  his  hat  upon  the  floor,  and  said, 

"You  didn't  know  Mrs.  Smith?" 

"I  hadn't  that  pleasure.     Who  was  she?" 

"  She  was  my  wife.  She's  been  sick  some  time. 
But  day  before  yesterday  she  was  took  worse,  and 
she  kep'  on  sinking  until  evening,  when  she  gave  a 
kinder  sudden  jump  a  couple  of  times,  and  then  her 
spirit  flickered.  Dead,  you  know.  Passed  away 
into  another  world." 

"  I'm  very  sorry." 

"So   am   I.     And   I   called  around  to   see   if  I 


SCENES  IN  A  SANCTUM. 


241 


couldn't  get  some  of  you.  literary  people  to  get  out 
some  kind  of  a  poem  describing  her  peculiarities,  so 
that  I  can  advertise  her  in  the  paper." 

"  I  dunno  ;  maybe  we  might." 

"Oh,  you  didn't  know  her,  you  say?     Well,  she 


was  a  sing'lar  kinder  woman.  Had  strong  charac 
teristics.  Her  nose  was  the  crookedest  in  the  State — 
all  bent  around  sideways.  Old  Captain  Binder  used 
to  say  that  it  looked  like  the  jibsail  of  an  oyster- 


16 


242  ELBOW-RO  OM. 

sloop  on  the  windward  tack.  Only  his  fun,  you 
know.  Rut  Helen  never  minded  it.  She  said  her 
self  that  it  aimed  so  much  around  the  corner  that 
whenever  she  sneezed  she  blew  down  her  back  hair. 
There  were  rich  depths  of  humor  in  that  woman. 
Now,  I  don't  mind  if  you  work  into  the  poem  some 
picturesque  allusion  to  the  condition  of  her  nose,  so 
her  friends  will  recognize  her.  And  you  might  also 
spend  a  verse  or  two  on  her  defective  eye." 

"  What  was  the  matter  with  her  eye  ?" 

"  Gone,  sir — gone !  Knocked  out  with  a  chip 
while  she  was  splitting  kin'ling-wood  when  she 
was  a  child.  She  fixed  it  up  somehow  with  a  glass 
one,  and  it  gave  her  the  oddest  expression  you  ever 
saw.  The  false  one  would  stand  perfectly  still  while 
the  other  one  was  rolling  around,  so  that  'bout  half 
the  time  you  couldn't  tell  whether  she  was  studying 
astronomy  or  watching  the  hired  girl  pare  potatoes. 
And  she  lay  there  at  night  with  the  indisposed  eye 
wide  open  glaring  at  me,  while  the  other  was  tight 
shut,  so  that  sometimes  I'd  get  the  horrors  and 
kick  her  and  shake  her  to  make  her  get  up  and  fix 
it.  Once  I  got  some  mucilage  and  glued  the  lid 
down  myself,  but  she  didn't  like  it  when  she  woke 
in  the  morning.  Had  to  soak  her  eye  in  warm 
water,  you  know,  to  get  it  open. 

"  Now,  I  reckon  you  could  run  in  some  language 
about  her  eccentricities  of  vision,  couldn't  you  ? 
Don't  care  what  it  is,  so  that  I  have  the  main  facts." 

"  Was  she  peculiar  in  other  respects  ?" 


SCENES  IN  A  SANCTUM.  243 

"  Well,  yes.  One  leg  was  gone — run  over  by  a 
wagon  when  she  was  little.  But  she  wore  a  patent 
leg  that  did  her  pretty  well.  Bothered  her  some 
times,  but  most  generally  gave  her  a  good  deal  of 
comfort.  She  was  fond  of  machinery.  She  was 
very  grateful  for  her  privileges.  Although  some 
times  it  worried  her,  too.  The  springs'd  work 
wrong  now  and  then,  and  maybe  in  church  her  leg'd 
give  a  spurt  and  begin  to  kick  and  hammer  away  at 
the  board  in  front  of  the  pew  until  it  sounded  like  a 
boiler-factory.  Then  I'd  carry  her  out,  and  most 
likely  it'd  kick  at  me  all  the  way  down  the  aisle  and 
end  up  by  dancing  her  around  the  vestibule,  until  the 
sexton  would  rebuke  her  for  waltzing  in  church. 
Seems  to  me  there's  material  for  poetry  in  that,  isn't 
there  ?  She  was  a  self-willed  woman.  Often,  when 
she  wanted  to  go  to  a  sewing-bee  or  to  gad  about 
somewhere,  maybe,  I'd  stuff  that  leg  up  the  chimney 
or  hide  it  in  the  wood-pile.  And  when  I  wouldn't  tell 
her  where  it  was,  do  you  know  what  she'd  do  ?" 

"What?" 

"  Why,  she'd  lash  an  umbrella  to  her  stump  and 
drift  off  down  the  street  'sif  that  umbrella  was  born 
there.  You  couldn't  get  ahead  of  her.  She  was 
ingenious.  ^f^ 

"  So  I  thought  I'd  mention  a  few  facts  to  you,  and 
you  can  just  throw  them  together  and  make  them 
rhyme,  and  I'll  call  'round  and  pay  you  for  them. 
What  day  ?  Tuesday  ?  Very  well ;  I'll  run  in  on 
Tuesday  and  see  how  you've  fixed  her  up." 


244  ELBOW-ROOM. 

Then  Mr.  Smith  smoothed  up  his  hat  with  his 
handkerchief,  wiped  the  accumulated  sorrow  from  his 
eyes,  placed  his  hat  upon  his  head,  and  sailed 
serenely  out  and  down  the  stairs  toward  his  deso 
lated  hearthstone. 

The  last  caller  was  an  artist.  He  took  a  chair 
and  said, 

"  My  name  is  Brewer ;  I  am  the  painter  of  the 
allegorical  picture  of  '  The  Triumph  of  Truth '  on 
exhibition  down  at  Yelverton's.  I  called,  major,  to 
make  some  complaint  about  the  criticism  of  the 
work  which  appeared  in  your  paper.  Your  critic 
seems  to  have  misunderstood  somewhat  the  drift 
of  the  picture.  For  instance,  he  says —  Let  me 
quote  the  paragraph : 

"  '  In  the  background  to  the  left  stands  St.  Augus 
tine  with  one  foot  on  a  wooden  Indian  which  is  lying 
upon  the  ground.  Why  the  artist  decorated  St. 
Augustine  with  a  high  hat  and  put  his  trousers 
inside  his  boots,  and  why  he  filled  the  saint's  belt 
with  navy  revolvers  and  tomahawks,  has  not  been 
revealed.  It  strikes  us  as  being  ridiculous  to  the 
very  last  degree.' 

"  Now,  this  seems  to  me  to  be  a  little  too  harsh. 
That  figure  does  not  represent  St.  Augustine.  It  is 
meant  for  an  allegorical  picture  of  Brute  Force,  and 
it  has  its  foot  upon  Intellect — Intellect,  mind  you  ! 
and  not  a  cigar-store  Indian.  It  is  a  likeness  of 
Captain  Kidd,  and  I  set  it  back  to  represent  the  fact 
that  Brute  Force  belonged  to  the  Dark  Ages.  How 


SCEA'ES  IN  A  SANCTUM.  245 

on  earth  that  man  of  yours  ever  got  an  idea  that  it 
was  St.  Augustine  beats  me." 

"  It  is  singular,"  said  the  major. 

"  And  now  let  me  direct  your  attention  to  another 
paragraph.  He  says, 

"  '  We  were  astonished  to  notice  that  while  Noah's 
ark  goes  sailing  in  the  remote  distance,  there  is 
close  to  it  a  cotton-factory,  the  chimney  of  which  is 
pouring  out  white  smoke  that  covers  the  whole  of 
the  sky  in  the  picture,  while  the  ark  seems  to  be 
trying  to  sail  down  that  chimney.  Now,  they  didn't 
have  cotton-factories  in  those  days ;  the  thing  don't 
hang.  The  artist  must  have  been  drunk.' 

"  Now,  this  insinuation  pains  me.  How  would 
you  like  it  if  you  painted  a  picture  of  the  tower  of 
Babel,  and  somebody  should  come  along  and  insist 
that  it  was  the  chimney  of  a  cotton-factory,  and  that 
the  clouds  with  which  the  sky  is  covered  were  smoke  ? 
Cotton-factory !  Your  man  certainly  cannot  be  fa 
miliar  with  the  Scriptures ;  and  when  he  talks  about 
the  ark  sailing  down  that  chimney,  he  forgets  that 
the  reason  why  it  is  standing  on  one  end  is  that  the 
water  is  so  rough  as  to  make  it  pitch.  You  know 
the  Bible  says  that  arks  did  pitch  'without  and 
within.'  Now,  don't  it?" 

"  I  think  maybe  it  does,"  said  the  major. 

"  But  that's  not  the  worst.  I  can  stand  that ;  but 
what  do  you  think  of  a  man  that  goes  to  criticising 
a  work  of  art,  and  says —  Now  just  listen  to  this  : 

"'On  the  right  is  a  boy  who  has  his  clothes  off, 


246  ELBOW-ROOM. 

and  has  apparently  been  in  swimming,  and  has  been 
rescued  by  a  big  yellow  dog  just  as  he  was  about  to 
drown.  What  this  has  to  do  with  the  Triumph  of 
Truth  we  don't  know,  but  we  do  know  that  the  dog 
is  twice  as  large  as  the  boy,  and  that  he  has  the 
boy's  head  in  his  mouth,  while  the  boy's  hands  are 
tied  behind  his  back.  Now,  for  a  boy  to  go  in 
swimming  with  his  hands  tied,  and  for  a  dog  to 
swallow  his  head  so  as  to  drag  him  out,  appears  to 
us  the  awfulest  foolishness  on  earth.' 

"  You  will  probably  be  surprised  to  learn  that 
your  critic  is  here  referring  to  a  very  beautiful  study 
of  a  Christian  martyr  who  has  been  thrown  among 
the  wild  beasts  of  the  arena,  and  who  is  engaged  in 
being  eaten  by  a  lion.  The  animal  is  not  a  yellow 
dog  ;  that  human  being  has  not  been  in  swimming ; 
and  the  reason  that  he  is  smaller  than  the  lion  is 
that  I  had  to  make  him  so  in  order  to  get  his  head 
into  the  lion's  mouth.  Would  you  have  me  repre 
sent  the  lion  as  large  as  an  elephant  ?  Would  you 
have  me  paste  a  label  on  the  Christian  martyr  to  in 
form  the  public  that  'This  is  not  a  boy  who  has  been 
treading  water  with  his  hands  tied '?  Now,  look  at 
the  matter  calmly.  Is  the  Patriot  encouraging  art 
when  it  goes  on  in  this  manner?  Blame  me  if  I 
think  it  is." 

"  It  certainly  doesn't  seem  so." 

"  Well,  then,  what  do  you  say  to  this  ?  What  do 
you  think  of  a  critic  who  remarks, 

" '  But  the  most  extraordinary  thing  in  the  picture 


SCENES  IN  A  SANCTUM.  247 

is  the  group  in  the  foreground.  An  old  lady  with 
an  iron  coal-scuttle  on  her  head  is  handing  some 
black  pills  to  a  ballet-dancer  dressed  in  pink  tights, 
while  another  woman  in  a  badly-fitting  chemise 
stands  by  them  brushing  off  the  flies  with  the  branch 
of  a  tree,  with  a  canary-bird  resting  upon  her  shoul 
der  and  trying  to  sing  at  some  small  boys  who  are 
seen  in  the  other  corner  of  the  field.  What  this 
means  we  haven't  the  remotest  idea;  but  we  do  know 
that  the  ballet-dancers'  legs  have  the  knee-pans  at 
the  back  of  the  joint,  and  that  the  canary-bird  looks 
more  as  if  he  wanted  to  eat  the  coal-scuttle  than  as 
if  he  desired  to  sing.' 

"  This  is  too  bad.  Do  you  know  what  that  beau 
tiful  group  really  represents  ?  That  old  lady,  as 
your  idiot  calls  her,  is  Minerva,  the  goddess  of  War, 
handing  cannon  balls  to  the  goddess  of  Love 
as  a  token  there  shall  be  no  more  war.  And  the 
figure  in  what  he  considers  the  chemise  is  the  genius 
of  Liberty  holding  out  an  olive  branch  with  one 
hand,  while  upon  her  shoulder  rests  an  American 
eagle  screaming  defiance  at  the  enemies  of  his  coun 
try,  who  are  seen  fleeing  in  the  distance.  Canary 
bird !  small  boys !  ballet-girl !  The  man  is  crazy, 
sir;  stark,  staring  mad.  And  now  I  want  you  to 
write  up  an  explanation  for  me.  This  kind  of  thing 
exposes  me  to  derision.  I  can't  stand  it,  and,  by 
George  !  I  won't !  I'll  sue  you  for  libel." 

Then  the  major  promised  to  make  amends,  and 
Mr.  Brewer  withdrew  in  a  calmer  mood. 


CHAPTER   XX. 

HIGH  ART. 

|N  itinerant  theatrical  company  gave  two 
or  three  performances  in  Millburg  last 
winter,  and  in  a  very  creditable  fashion, 
too.  One  of  the  plays  produced  was 
Shakespere's  "  King  John,"  with  the  "  eminent  trage 
dian  Mr.  Hammer  "  in  the  character  of  the  King. 
It  is  likely  that  but  for  an  unfortunate  misunder 
standing  the  entertainment  would  have  been  wholly 
delightful.  There  is  a  good  deal  of  flourishing  of 
trumpets  in  the  drama,  and  the  manager,  not  having 
a  trumpeter  of  his  own,  engaged  a  German  mu 
sician  named  Schenck  to  supply  the  music.  Schenck 
doesn't  understand  the  English  language  very  well, 
and  the  manager  put  him  behind  the  scenes  on  the 
left  of  the  stage,  while  the  manager  stood  in  the 
wing  at  the  right  of  the  stage.  Then  Schenck  was 
instructed  to  toot  his  trumpet  when  the  manager 
signaled  with  his  hand.  Everything  went  along 
smoothly  enough  until  King  John  (Mr.  Hammer) 
came  to  the  passage,  "  Ah,  me !  this  tyrant  fever 
burns  me  up !"  Just  as  King  John  was  about  to 
utter  this  the  manager  brushed  a  fly  off  of  his  nose, 

248 


HIGH  ART.  249 

and  Schenck,  mistaking  the  movement  for  the  ap 
pointed  signal,  blew  out  a  frightful  blare  upon  his 
bugle.  The  King  was  furious  and  the  manager 
made  wild  gestures  for  Schenck  to  stop,  but  that 
estimable  German  musician  imagined  that  the  man 
ager  wanted  him  to  play  louder,  and  every  time  a 
fresh  motion  was  made  Schenck  emitted  a  more  ter 
rific  blast.  The  result  was  something  like  the  fol 
lowing: 

King  John.  "Ah,  me!  this  tyrant—" 

Schenck  (with  his  cheeks  distended  and  his  eyes 
beaming  through  his  spectacles).  "Ta-tarty;  ta-ta- 
tarty,  rat-tat  tarty-tarty-tarty,  ta-ta-ta,  tanarty-arty, 
te-tarty." 

King  John.  "  Fever  burns — " 

Schenck.  "  Rat-tat-tarty,  poopen-arty,  oopen-arty, 
ta-tarty-arty-oopen-arty ;  ta-ta ;  ta-ta-ta-tarty  poopen- 
arty,  poopen  a-a-a-arty-arty." 

King  John.  "Ah,  me!  this—" 

Schenck  (ejecting  a  hurricane  from  his  lungs). 
"  Hoopen-oopen-oopen-arty,  ta-tarty ;  tat-tat-ta-tarty- 
ti-ta-tarty ;  poopen-ta-poopen-ta-poopen-ta-a-a-a-tar- 
ty-whoop  ta-ta." 

King  John  (quickly).  "  Tyrant  fever  burns  me  up." 

Schenck  (with  perspiration  standing  out  on  his 
forehead).  "  To-ta  ta-ta.  Ta-ta  ta-ta  tatten-atten- 
atten  arty  te-tarty  poopen  oopen-oo-oo-oo-oo-oopen 
te-tarty  ta-ta-ar-ar-ar-te  tarty-to-ta-a-a-a-^-A-A-^f  /" 

King  John  (to  the  audience).  "  Ladies  and  gentle 
men—" 


250  ELBOW-ROOM. 

Schenck.  "  Ta-ta,  ta-ta,  ta-ta,  poopen-oopen,  poopen- 
oopen,  te-ta,  tarty  oo-hoo  oo-hoo-te  tarty  arty,  appen- 
arty." 

King  John.  "  There  is  a  German  idiot  behind  the 
scenes  here  who  is — 

Schenck.  "  Whoopen-arty  te-tarty-arty-arty-ta-ta- 
a-a-a  tat-tarty." 

King-  John.  "  Blowing  infamously  upon  a  horn, 
and—'' 

Schenck.  "  Poopen-arty." 

King  John.  "  If  you  will  excuse  me — " 

Schenck.  "  Pen-arty-arty." 

King  John.  "  I  will  go  behind  the  scenes  and 
check  him  in  his  wild  career." 

Schenck.  "  Poopen-arty  ta-tarty-arty  poopen-a-a-a- 
arty  tat-tat-ta-tarty." 

Then  King  John  disappeared  and  a  scuffle  was 
heard,  with  some  violent  expressions  in  the  German 
language.  Ten  minutes  later  a  gentleman  from  the 
Fatherland  might  have  been  seen  standing  on  the 
pavement  in  front  of  the  theatre  with  a  bugle  under 
his  arm  and  a  handkerchief  to  his  bleeding  nose, 
wondering  what  on  earth  was  the  matter.  In  the 
mean  time  the  King  had  returned  to  the  stage,  and 
the  performance  concluded  without  any  music.  Af 
ter  this  the  manager  will  employ  home  talent  when 
he  wants  airs  on  the  bugle. 

I  have  been  studying  the  horn  to  some  extent  my 
self.  Nothing  is  more  delightful  than  to  have  sweet 


HIGH  ART.  251 

music  at  home  in  the  evenings.  It  lightens  the  bur 
dens  of  care,  it  soothes  the  ruffled  feelings,  it  exer 
cises  a  refining  influence  upon  the  children,  it  calms 
the  passions  and  elevates  the  soul.  A  few  months 
ago  I  thought  that  it  might  please  my  family  if  I 
learned  to  play  upon  the  French  horn.  It  is  a  beautiful 
instrument,  and  after  hearing  a  man  perform  on  it  at 
a  concert  I  resolved  to  have  one.  I  bought  a  splen 
did  one  in  the  city,  and  concluded  not  to  mention 
the  fact  to  any  one  until  I  had  learned  to  play  a  tune. 
Then  I  thought  I  would  serenade  Mrs.  A.  some 
evening  and  surprise  her.  Accordingly,  I  deter 
mined  to  practice  in  the  garret.  When  I  first  tried 
the  horn  I  expected  to  blow  only  a  few  gentle  notes 
until  I  learned  how  to  handle  it ;  but  when  I  put  the 
mouth-piece  to  my  lips,  no  sound  was  evoked.  Then 
I  blew  harder.  Still  the  horn  remained  silent.  Then 
I  drew  a  full  breath  and  sent  a  whirlwind  tearing 
through  the  horn ;  but  no  music  came.  I  blew  at  it 
for  half  an  hour,  and  then  I  ran  a  wire  through  the 
instrument  to  ascertain  if  anything  blocked  it  up.  It 
was  clear.  Then  I  blew  softly  and  fiercely,  quickly 
and  slowly.  I  opened  all  the  stops.  I  puffed  and 
strained  and  worked  until  I  feared  an  attack  of  apo 
plexy.  Then  I  gave  it  up  and  went  down  stairs ;  and 
Mrs.  A.  asked  me  what  made  me  look  so  red  in  the 
face.  For  four  days  I  labored  with  that  horn,  and 
got  my  lips  so  puckered  up  and  swollen  that  I  went 
about  looking  as  if  I  was  perpetually  trying  to  whis 
tle.  Finally,  I  took  the  instrument  back  to  the  store 


252  ELBOW-ROOM. 

and  told  the  man  that  the  horn  was  defective. 
What  I  wanted  was  a  horn  with  insides  to  it ;  this 
one  had  no  more  music  to  it  than  a  terra-cotta  drain 
pipe.  The  man  took  it  in  his  hand,  put  it  to  his  lips 
and  played  "Sweet  Spirit,  Hear  my  Prayer,"  as  easily 
as  if  he  were  singing.  He  said  that  what  I  needed 
was  to  fix  my  mouth  properly,  and  he  showed  me 
how. 

After  working  for  three  more  afternoons  in  the 
garret  the  horn  at  last  made  a  sound.  But  it  was 
not  a  cheering  noise ;  it  reminded  me  forcibly  of  the 
groans  uttered  by  Butterwick's  horse  when  it  was 
dying  last  November.  The  harder  I  blew,  the  more 
mournful  became  the  noise,  and  that  was  the  only 
note  I  could  get.  When  I  went  down  to  supper, 
Mrs.  A.  asked  me  if  I  heard  that  awful  groaning. 
She  said  she  guessed  it  came  from  Twiddler's  cow, 
for  she  heard  Mrs.  Twiddler  say  yesterday  that  the 
cow  was  sick. 

For  four  weeks  I  could  get  nothing  out  of  that 
horn  but  blood-curdling  groans ;  and,  meantime,  the 
people  over  the  way  moved  to  another  house  because 
our  neighborhood  was  haunted,  and  three  of  our 
hired  girls  resigned  successively  for  the  same  reason. 

Finally,  a  man  whom  I  consulted  told  me  that 
"  No  One  to  Love"  was  an  easy  tune  for  beginners; 
and  I  made  an  effort  to  learn  it. 

After  three  weeks  of  arduous  practice,  during 
which  Mrs.  A.  several  times  suggested  that  it  was 
brutal  that  Twiddler  didn't  kill  that  suffering  cow 


HIGH  ART. 


253 


and  put  it  out  of  its  misery,  I  conquered  the  first 
three  notes ;  but  there  I  stuck.  I  could  play  "  No 
One  to —  "  and  that  was  all.  I  performed  "  No  One 
to — "  over  eight  thousand  times;  and  as  it  seemed 


unlikely  that  I  would  ever  learn  the  whole  tune,  I 
determined  to  try  the  effect  of  part  of  it  on  Mrs.  A. 
About  ten  o'clock  one  night  I  crept  out  to  the  front 
of  the  house  and  struck  up.  First,  "  No  One  to — " 


254  ELBOW-ROOM. 

about  fifteen  or  twenty  times,  then  a  few  of  those 
groans,  then  more  of  the  tune,  and  so  forth.  Then 
Butterwick  set  his  dog  on  me,  and  I  suddenly  went 
into  the  house.  Mrs.  A.  had  the  children  in  the 
back  room,  and  she  was  standing  behind  the  door 
with  my  revolver  in  her  hand.  When  I  entered,  she 
exclaimed, 

"  Oh,  I'm  so  glad  you've  come  home  !  Somebody's 
been  murdering  a  man  in  our  yard.  He  uttered  the 
most  awful  shrieks  and  cries  I  ever  heard.  I  was 
dreadfully  afraid  the  murderers  would  come  into  the 
house.  It's  perfectly  fearful,  isn't  it  ?" 

Then  I  took  the  revolver  away  from  her — it  was 
not  loaded,  and  she  had  no  idea  that  it  would  have 
to  be  cocked — and  went  to  bed  without  mentioning 
the  horn.  I  thought  perhaps  it  would  be  better  not 
to.  I  sold  it  the  next  day;  and  now  if  I  want  music 
I  shall  buy  a  good  hand-organ.  I  know  I  can  play 
on  that. 

As  music  and  sculpture  are  the  first  of  the  arts,  I 
may  properly  refer  in  this  chapter  to  some  facts  rela 
tive  to  the  condition  of  the  latter  in  the  community 
in  which  I  live.  Some  time  ago  there  was  an  auc 
tion  out  at  the  place  of  Mr.  Jackson,  and  a  very 
handsome  marble  statue  of  William  Penn  was 
knocked  down  to  Mr.  Whitaker.  He  had  the 
statue  carted  over  to  the  marble-yard,  where  he 
sought  an  interview  with  Mr.  Mix,  the  owner.  He 
told  Mix  that  he  wanted  that  statue  "  fixed  up  some- 


HIGH  ART.  255 

how  so  that  'twould  represent  one  of  the  heathen 
gods."  He  had  an  idea  that  Mix  might  chip  the 
clothes  off  of  Penn  and  put  a  lyre  in  his  hand,  "  so 
that  he  might  pass  muster  as  Apollo  or  Hercules." 

But  Mix  said  he  thought  the  difficulty  would  be 
in  wrestling  with  William's  hat.  It  was  a  marble 
hat,  with  a  rim  almost  big  enough  for  a  race-course  ; 
and  Mix  said  that  although  he  didn't  profess  to 
know  much  about  heathen  mythology  as  a  general 
thing,  still  it  struck  him  that  Hercules  in  a  broad- 
brimmed  hat  would  attract  attention  by  his  singu 
larity,  and  might  be  open  to  criticism. 

Mr.  Whitaker  said  that  what  he  really  wanted 
with  that  statue,  when  he  bought  it,  was  to  turn  it 
into  Venus,  and  he  thought  perhaps  the  hat  might 
be  chiseled  up  into  some  kind  of  a  halo  around  her 
head. 

But  Mix  said  that  he  didn't  exactly  see  how  he 
could  do  that  when  the  rim  was  so  curly  at  the 
sides.  A  halo  that  was  curly  was  just  no  halo  at  all. 
But,  anyway,  how  was  he  going  to  manage  about 
Penn's  waistcoat  ?  It  reached  almost  to  his  knees, 
and  to  attempt  to  get  out  a  bare-legged  Venus  with 
a  halo  on  her  head  and  four  cubic  feet  of  waistcoat 
around  her  middle  would  ruin  his  business.  It 
would  make  the  whole  human  race  smile. 

Then  Whitaker  said  Neptune  was  a  god  he  always 
liked,  and  perhaps  Mix  could  fix  the  tails  of  Penn's 
coat  somehow  so  that  it  would  look  as  if  the  figure 
was  riding  on  a  dolphin ;  then  the  hat  might  be 


256  ELBOW-ROOM. 

made  to  represent  seaweed,  and  a  fish-spear  could 
be  put  in  the  statue's  hand. 

Mix,  however,  urged  that  a  white  marble  hat  of 
those  dimensions,  when  cut  into  seaweed,  would  be 
more  apt  to  look  as  if  Neptune  was  coming  home 
with  a  load  of  hay  upon  his  head ;  and  he  said  that 
although  art  had  made  gigantic  strides  during  the 
past  century,  and  evidently  had  a  brilliant  future 
before  it,  it  had  not  yet  discovered  a  method  by 
which  a  swallow-tail  coat  with  flaps  to  the  pockets 
could  be  turned  into  anything  that  would  look  like  a 
dolphin. 

Then  Mr.  Whitaker  wanted  to  know  if  Pan  wasn't 
the  god  that  had  horns  and  split  hoofs,  with  a  shaggy 
look  to  his  legs;  for  if  he  was,  he  would  be  willing 
to  have  the  statue  made  into  Pan,  if  it  could  be  done 
without  too  much  expense. 

And  Mr.  Mix  said  that  while  nothing  would 
please  him  more  than  to  produce  such  a  figure  of 
Pan,  and  while  William  Penn's  square-toed  shoes, 
probably,  might  be  made  into  cloven  hoofs  without 
a  very  strenuous  effort,  still  he  hardly  felt  as  if  he 
could  fix  up  those  knee-breeches  to  resemble  shaggy 
legs ;  and  as  for  trying  to  turn  that  hat  into  a  pair 
of  horns,  Mr.  Whitaker  might  as  well  talk  of  empty 
ing  the  Atlantic  Ocean  through  a  stomach-pump. 

Thereupon,  Mr.  Whitaker  remarked  that  he  had 
concluded,  on  the  whole,  that  it  would  be  better  to 
split  the  patriarch  up  the  middle  and  take  the  two 
halves  to  make  a  couple  of  little  Cupids,  which  he 


HIGH  ART.  257 

could  hang  in  his  parlor  with  a  string,  so  that  they 
would  appear  to  be  sporting  in  air.  Perhaps  the 
flap  of  that  hat  might  be  sliced  up  into  wings  and 
glued  on  the  shoulders  of  the  Cupids. 

But  Mr.  Mix  said  that  while  nobody  would  put 
himself  out  more  to  oblige  a  friend  than  he  would, 
still  he  must  say,  if  his  honest  opinion  was  asked, 
that  to  attempt  to  make  a  Cupid  out  of  one  leg  and 
half  the  body  of  William  Penn  would  be  childish, 
because,  if  they  used  the  half  one  way,  there  would 
be  a  very  small  Cupid  with  one  very  long  leg ;  and 
if  they  used  it  the  other  way,  he  would  have  to  cut 
Cupid's  head  out  of  the  calf  of  William's  leg,  and 
there  wasn't  room  enough,  let  alone  the  fact  that  the 
knee-joint  would  give  the  god  of  Love  the  appear 
ance  of  having  a  broken  back.  And  as  for  wings, 
if  the  man  had  been  born  who  could  chisel  wings 
out  of  the  flap  of  a  hat,  all  he  wanted  was  to  meet 
that  man,  so  that  he  could  gaze  on  him  and  study 
him.  Finally  Whitaker  suggested  that  Mix  should 
make  the  statue  into  an  angel  and  sell  it  for  an  orna 
ment  to  a  tombstone. 

But  Mix  said  that  if  he  should  insult  the  dead  by 
putting  up  in  the  cemetery  an  angel  with  a  stubby 
nose  and  a  double-chin,  that  would  let  him  out  as  a 
manufacturer  of  sepulchres. 

And  so  Whitaker  sold  him  the  statue  for  ten  dol 
lars,  and  Mix  sawed  it  up  into  slabs  for  marble-top 
tables.  High  art  doesn't  seem  to  flourish  to  any 
large  extent  in  this  place. 

17 


CHAPTER   XXI. 

CERTAIN  DENTAL  EXPERIENCES.— AN  UNFORTU 
NATE  OFFICIAL. 

|R.  POTTS  has  suffered  a  good  deal  from 
the  toothache,  and  one  day  he  went  around 
to  the  office  of  Dr.  Slugg,  the  dentist,  to 
have  the  offending  tooth  pulled.  The 
doctor  has  a  very  large  practice ;  and  in  order  to 
economize  his  strength,  he  invented  a  machine  for 
pulling  teeth.  He  constructed  a  series  of  cranks 
and  levers  fixed  to  a  movable  stand  and  operating 
a  pair  of  forceps  by  means  of  a  leather  belt,  which 
was  connected  with  the  shafting  of  a  machine-shop 
in  the  street  back  of  the  house.  The  doctor  ex 
perimented  with  it  several  times  on  nails  firmly 
inserted  in  a  board,  and  it  worked  splendidly.  The 
first  patient  he  tried  it  on  was  Mr.  Potts.  When 
the  forceps  had  been  clasped  upon  Potts'  tooth, 
Dr.  Slugg  geared  the  machine  and  opened  the  valve. 
It  was  never  known  with  any  degree  of  exactness 
whether  the  doctor  pulled  the  valve  too  far  open 
or  whether  the  engine  was  working  at  that  mo 
ment  under  extraordinary  pressure.  But  in  the 
twinkling  of  an  eye  Mr.  Potts  was  twisted  out  of  the 

258 


CERTAIN  DENTAL  EXPERIENCES. 

chair  and  the  movable  stand  began  to  execute  the 
most  surprising  manoeuvres  around  the  room.  It 
would  jerk  Mr.  Potts  high  into  the  air  and  souse 
him  down  in  an  appalling  manner,  with  one  leg 
among  Slugg's  gouges  and  other  instruments  of  tor 


ture,  and  with  the  other  in  the  spittoon.  Then  it 
would  rear  him  up  against  the  chandelier  three  or 
four  times,  and  shy  across  and  drive  Potts'  head 
through  the  oil  portrait  of  Slugg's  father  over  the 
mantel-piece.  After  bumping  him  against  Slugg's 
ancestor  it  would  swirl  Potts  around  among  the 


260  ELBOW-ROOM, 

crockery  on  the  wash-stand  and  dance  him  up  and 
down  in  an  exciting  manner  over  the  stove,  until 
finally  the  molar  "  gave,"  and  as  Potts  landed  with 
his  foot  through  the  pier-glass  and  his  elbow  on  a 
pink  poodle  worked  in  a  green  rug,  the  machine 
dashed  violently  against  Dr.  Slugg  and  tried  to  seize 
his  leg  with  the  forceps.  When  they  carried  Potts 
home,  he  discovered  that  Slugg  had  pulled  the  wrong 
tooth;  and  Dr.  Slugg  never  sent  to  collect  his  bill. 
He  canceled  his  contract  with  the  man  who  owned 
the  planing-mill,  and  began  to  pull  teeth  in  the  old 
way,  by  hand.  I  have  an  impression  that  Slugg's 
patent  can  be  bought  at  a  sacrifice. 

Mr.  Potts,  a  day  or  two  later,  resolved  to  take  the 
aching  tooth  out  himself.  He  had  heard  that  a  tooth 
could  be  removed  suddenly  and  without  much  pain 
by  tying  a  string  around  it,  fixing  the  string  to  a 
bullet  and  firing  the  bullet  from  a  gun.  So  he  got 
some  string  and  fastened  it  to  the  tooth  and  to  a 
ball,  rammed  the  latter  into  his  gun,  and  aimed  the 
gun  out  of  the  window.  Then  he  began  to  feel  ner 
vous  about  it,  and  he  cocked  and  uncocked  the  gun 
about  twenty  times,  as  his  mind  changed  in  regard 
to  the  operation.  The  last  time  the  gun  was  cocked 
he  resolved  not  to  take  the  tooth  out  in  that  way, 
and  he  began  to  let  the  hammer  down  preparatory 
to  cutting  the  string.  Just  then  the  hammer  slipped, 
and  the  next  minute  Mr.  Potts'  tooth  was  flying 
through  the  air  at  the  rate  of  fifty  miles  a  minute, 
and  he  was  rolling  over  on  the  floor  howling  and 


CERTAIN  DENTAL  EXPERIENCES.  26 1 

spitting  blood.  After  Mrs.  Potts  had  picked  him  up 
and  given  him  water  with  which  to  wash  out  his 
mouth  he  went  down  to  the  front  window.  While 
he  was  sitting  there  thinking  that  maybe  it  was  all 
for  the  best,  he  saw  some  men  coming  by  carrying  a 
body  on  a  shutter.  He  asked  what  was  the  matter, 
and  they  told  him  that  Bill  Dingus  had  been  mur 
dered  by  somebody. 

Mr.  Potts  thought  he  would  put  on  his  hat  and  go 
down  to  the  coroner's  office  and  see  what  the  tragedy 
was.  When  he  got  there,  Mr.  Dingus  had  revived 
somewhat,  and  he  told  his  story  to  the  coroner.  He 
was  trimming  a  tree  in  Butterwick's  garden,  when  he 
suddenly  heard  the  explosion  of  a  gun,  and  the  next 
minute  a  bullet  struck  him  in  the  thigh  and  he  fell 
to  the  ground.  He  said  he  couldn't  imagine  who 
did  it.  Then  the  doctor  examined  the  wound  and 
found  a  string  hanging  from  it,  and  a  large  bullet 
suspended  upon  the  string.  When  he  pulled  the 
string  it  would  not  move  any,  and  he  said  it  must 
be  tied  to  some  other  missile  still  in  the  flesh.  He 
said  it  was  the  most  extraordinary  case  on  rec 
ord.  The  medical  books  reported  nothing  of  the 
kind. 

Then  the  doctor  gave  Mr.  Dingus  chloroform  and 
proceeded  to  cut  into  him  with  a  knife  to  find  the 
other  end  of  the  string,  and  while  he  was  at  work 
Mr.  Potts  began  to  feel  sick  at  his  stomach  and  to 
experience  a  desire  to  go  home.  At  last  the  doctor 
cut  deep  enough ;  and  giving  the  string  a  jerk,  out 


262  ELBOW-ROOM. 

came  a  molar  tooth  that  looked  as  if  it  might  have 
been  aching.  Then  the  doctor  said  the  case  was 
more  extraordinary  than  he  had  thought  it  was.  He 
said  that  tooth  couldn't  have  been  fired  from  a  gun, 
because  it  would  have  been  broken  to  pieces ;  it 
couldn't  have  been  swallowed  by  Dingus  and  then 
broken  through  and  buried  itself  in  his  thigh,  for  then 
how  could  the  string  and  ball  be  accounted  for  ? 

"  The  occurrence  is  totally  unaccountable  upon 
any  reasonable  theory,"  said  the  doctor,  "  and  I  do 
not  know  what  to  believe,  unless  we  are  to  conceive 
that  the  tooth  and  the  ball  were  really  meteoric 
stones  that  have  assumed  these  remarkable  shapes 
and  been  shot  down  upon  the  earth  with  such  force 
as  to  penetrate  Mr.  Dingus'  leg,  and  this  is  so  very 
improbable  that  we  can  hardly  accept  it  unless  it  is 
impossible  to  find  any  other.  Hallo !  What's  the 
matter  with  you,  Potts  ?  Your  mouth  and  shirt  are 
all  stained  with  blood !" 

"  Oh,  nothing,"  said  Potts,  forgetting  himself.  "  I 
just  lost  a  tooth,  and — " 

"  You  lost  a—     Who  pulled  it  ?"  asked  the  doctor. 

"Gentlemen,"  said  Potts,  "the  fact  is  I  shot  it 
out  with  my  gun." 

Then  they  put  Potts  under  bail  for  attempted  as 
sassination,  and  Dingus  said  that  as  soon  as  he  got 
well  he  would  bang  Mr.  Potts  with  a  club.  When 
the  crowd  had  gone,  the  coroner  said  to  Potts, 

"  You're  a  mean  sort  of  a  man,  now,  ain't  you  ?" 

"Well,    Mr.    Maginn,"    replied    Potts,    "I    really 


AN  UNFORTUNATE    OFFICIAL.  263 

didn't  know  Mr.  Dingus  was  there;  and  the  gun  went 
off  accidentally,  any  way." 

"  Oh,  it  isn't  that,"  said  the  coroner  —  "  it  isn't 
that.  I  don't  mind  your  shooting  him,  but  why  in 
the  thunder  didn't  you  kill  him  while  you  were  at  it, 
and  give  me  a  chance  ?  You  want  to  see  me  starve, 
don't  you  ?  I  wish  you'd  a  buried  the  tooth  in  his 
lung  and  the  ball  in  his  liver,  and  then  I'd  a  had  my 
regular  fees.  But  as  it  is,  I  have  all  the  bother  and 
get  nothing.  I'd  starve  to  death  if  all  men  were 
like  you." 

And  Potts  went  away  with  a  dim  impression  that 
he  had  injured  Maginn  rather  more  than  Mr.  Dingus. 

Coroner  Maginn's  condition,  however,  is  one  of 
chronic  discontent.  Upon  the  occasion  of  a  recent 
encounter  with  him  I  said  to  him, 

"  Business  seems  to  be  dull  to-day,  Mr.  Maginn." 

"  Dull !  Well,  that's  just  no  name  for  it.  This  is 
the  deadest  town  I  ever —  Well,  exceptin'  Jim  Bus 
by's  tumblin'  off  the  market-house  last  month,  there 
hasn't  been  a  decent  accident  in  this  place  since  last 
summer.  How'm  I  goin'  to  live,  I  want  to  know? 
In  other  countries  people  keep  things  movin'. 
There  are  murders  and  coal-oil  explosions  and  roofs 
fallin'  in — 'most  always  somethin'  lively  to  afford  a 
coroner  a  chance.  But  here !  Why,  I  don't  get 
'nough  fees  in  a  year  to  keep  a  poll-parrot  in  water- 
crackers.  I  don't — now,  that's  the  honest  truth." 

"  That  does  seem  discouraging." 


264  ELBOW-ROOM. 

"And  then  the  worst  of  it  is  a  man's  friends  won't 
stand  by  him.  There's  Doolan,  the  coroner  in  the 
next  county.  He  found  a  drowned  man  up  in  the 
river  just  beyond  the  county  line.  I  ought  to  have 
had  the  first  shy  at  the  body  by  rights,  for  I  know 
well  enough  he  fell  in  from  this  county  and  then 
skeeted  up  with  the  tide.  But  no;  Doolan  would 
hold  the  inquest ;  and  do  you  believe  that  man  actu 
ally  wouldn't  float  the  remains  down  the  river  so's  I 
could  sit  on  'em  after  he'd  got  through  ?  Actually 
took  'em  out  and  buried  'em,  although  I  offered  to 
go  halves  with  him  on  my  fees  if  he  would  pass  the 
body  down  this  way.  That's  a  positive  fact.  He  re 
fused.  Now,  what  do  you  think  of  a  man  like  that  ? 
He  hasn't  got  enough  soul  in  him  to  be  worth  preach- 
in'  to.  That's  my  opinion." 

"  It  wasn't  generous." 

"  No,  sir.  Why,  there's  Stanton  come  home  from 
Peru  with  six  mummies  that  he  dug  out  of  some 
sepulchre  in  that  country.  They  look  exackly  like 
dried  beef.  Now,  my  view  is  that  I  ought  to  sit  on 
those  things.  They're  human  beings  ;  nobody  'round 
here  knows  what  they  died  of.  The  law  has  a  right 
to  know.  Stanton  hasn't  got  a  doctor's  certificate 
about  'em,  and  I'm  sworn  to  look  after  all  dead  peo 
ple  that  can't  account  for  bein'  dead,  or  that  are  sus- 
picioned  of  dyin'  by  foul  play.  I  could  have  made 
fifty  dollars  out  of  those  deceased  Peruvians,  and  I 
ought  to've  done  it.  But  no  !  Just  as  I  was  about 
to  begin,  the  supervisors,  they  shut  down  on  it ;  they 


AN  UNFORTUNATE    OFFICIAL.  26$ 

said  the  county  didn't  care  nothin'  about  people 
that  had  been  dead  for  six  hundred  years,  and  they 
wouldn't  pay  me  a  cent.  Just  as  if  six  thousand 
years  was  anything  in  the  eye  of  the  law,  when 
maybe  a  man's  been  stabbed,  or  something,  and 
when  I'm  under  oath  to  tend  to  him !  But  it's  just 
my  luck.  Everything  appears  to  be  agin  me, 
'specially  if  there's  money  in  it." 

"  You  do  seem  rather  unfortunate." 

"  Now,  there's  some  countries  where  they  fre 
quently  have  earthquakes  which  rattle  down  the 
houses  and  mash  people,  and  volcanoes  which 
burst  out  and  set  hundreds  of  'em  afire,  and  hurri 
canes  which  blow  'em  into  Hereafter.  A  coroner 
can  have  some  comfort  in  such  a  place  as  that.  He 
can  live  honest  and  respectable.  Just  think  of  settin' 
on  four  or  five  hundred  bodies  killed  with  an  earth 
quake  !  It  makes  my  mouth  water.  But  nothin'  of 
that  sort  ever  happens  in  this  jackass  kind  of  a  land. 
Things  go  along  just  'sif  they  were  asleep.  We've 
got  six  saw-mills  'round  this  town,  but  nobody  ever 
gets  tangled  in  the  machinery  and  sawed  in  half. 
We've  got  a  gunpowder-factory  out  beyond  the 
turnpike,  but  will  that  ever  go  up?  It  wouldn't 
if  you  was  to  toss  a  red-hot  stove  in  among  the 
powder — leastways,  not  while  I'm  coroner.  There's 
a  river  down  there,  but  nobody  ever  drowns  in  it 
where  I  can  have  a  hitch  at  him ;  and  if  there's  a 
freshet,  everybody  at  once  gets  out  of  reach.  If 
there's  a  fire,  all  the  inmates  get  away  safe,  and  no 


266  ELBOW-ROOM. 

fireman  ever  falls  off  a  ladder  or  stands  where  a 
wall  might  flatten  him  out.  No,  sir ;  I  don't  have  a 
fair  show.  There  was  that  riot  out  at  the  foundry. 
In  any  other  place  three  or  four  men  would  have 
been  killed,  and  there'd  a  been  fatness  for  the  cor 
oner;  but  of  course,  bein'  in  my  county,  nothin' 
occurred  exceptin'  Sam  Dixon  got  kicked  in  the  ribs 
and  had  part  of  his  ear  bitten  off.  A  man  can't 
make  an  honest  livin'  under  sech  circumstances  as 
them  ;  he  can't,  really." 

"  It  does  appear  difficult." 

"  I  did  think  maybe  I  might  get  the  supervisors  to 
let  me  go  out  to  the  cemetery  and  set  on  the  folks 
that  are  buried  there,  so's  I  could  overhaul  'em  and 
kinder  revise  the  verdicts  that've  been  rendered  on 
'em.  I'd  a  done  it  for  half  price ;  but  those  fellows 
have  got  such  queer  ideas  of  economy  that  they 
wouldn't  listen  to  it ;  said  the  town  couldn't  go  to 
any  fresh  expense  while  it  was  buildin'  water-works. 
And  I  wanted  to  put  the  new  school-house  out  yer 
by  the  railroad  or  down  by  the  river,  so's  some  of 
the  children'd  now  and  then  get  run  over  or  fall  in ; 
but  the  parents  were  'posed  to  it  for  selfish  reasons, 
and  so  I  got  shoved  out  of  that  chance.  Yes,  sir, 
it's  rough  on  me ;  and  I  tell  you  that  if  there  are  not 
more  sudden  deaths  in  this  county  the  law's  got  to 
give  me  a  salary,  or  I'm  goin'  to  perish  by  starvation. 
Not  that  I'd  mind  that  much  for  myself,  but  it  cuts 
me  up  to  think  that  as  soon  as  I  stepped  out  the  next 
coroner'd  begin  right  off  to  earn  a  livin'  out  of  me." 


AN  UNFORTUNATE    OFFICIAL.  267 

Then  I  said  "  Good-morning  "  and  left,  while  Mr. 
Maginn  selected  a  fresh  stick  to  whittle.  Mr.  Ma- 
ginn,  however,  had  one  good  chance  recently  to  col 
lect  fees. 

The  country  around  the  town  of  Millburg  is  of 
limestone  formation.  The  town  stands,  as  has  al 
ready  been  mentioned,  on  a  high  hill,  at  the  foot  of 
which  there  is  a  wonderful  spring,  and  the  belief  has 
always  been  that  the  hill  is  full  of  great  caves  and 
fissures,  through  which  the  water  makes  its  way  to 
feed  the  spring.  A  year  or  two  ago  they  organized 
a  cemetery  company  at  Millburg,  and  they  located 
the  graveyard  upon  the  hill  a  short  distance  back  of 
the  town.  After  they  had  deposited  several  bodies 
in  the  ground,  one  day  somebody  discovered  a  coffin 
floating  in  the  river.  It  was  hauled  out,  and  it  turned 
out  to  be  the  remains  of  Mr.  Piggott,  who  was  buried 
in  the  cemetery  the  day  before.  The  coroner  held 
an  inquest,  and  they  reinterred  the  corpse. 

On  the  following  morning,  however,  Mr.  Piggott 
was  discovered  bumping  up  against  the  wharf  at  the 
gas-works  in  the  river.  People  began  to  be  scared, 
and  there  was  some  talk  to  the  effect  that  he  had 
been  murdered  and  couldn't  rest  quietly  in  his  grave. 
But  the  coroner  was  not  scared.  He  empaneled  a 
jury,  held  another  inquest,  collected  his  fees  and 
buried  the  body.  Two  days  afterward  some  boys, 
while  in  swimming,  found  a  burial-casket  floating 
under  the  bushes  down  by  the  saw-mill.  They 
called  for  help,  and  upon  examining  the  interior  of 


268  ELBOW-ROOM. 

the  casket  they  discovered  the  irrepressible  Mr.  Pig- 
gott  again.  This  was  too  much.  Even  the  ministers 
began  to  believe  in  ghosts,  and  hardly  a  man  in 
town  dared  to  go  out  of  the  house  that  night  alone. 
But  the  coroner  controlled  his  emotions  sufficiently 
to  sit  on  the  body,  make  the  usual  charges  and  bury 
Mr.  Piggott  in  a  fresh  place  in  his  lot. 

The  next  morning,  while  Peter  Lamb  was  drink 
ing  out  of  the  big  spring,  he  saw.  something  push 
slowly  out  of  the  mud  at  the  bottom  of  the  pool. 
He  turned  as  white  as  a  sheet  as  he  watched  it ;  and 
in  a  few  minutes  he  saw  that  it  was  a  coffin.  It 
floated  out,  down  the  creek  into  the  river,  and  then 
Peter  ran  to  tell  the  coroner.  That  official  had  a 
jury  waiting,  and  he  proceeded  to  the  coffin.  It  was 
old  Mr.  Piggott,  as  usual ;  and  they  went  through 
the  customary  routine  with  him,  and  were  about  to 
bury  him,  when  his  family  came  forward  and  said 
they  would  prefer  to  inter  him  in  another  place,  being 
convinced  now  there  must  be  a  subterranean  channel 
leading  from  the  cemetery  to  the  spring.  The  coro 
ner  couldn't  object;  but  after  the  Piggotts  were  gone 
he  said  to  the  jury  that  people  who  would  take  the 
bread  out  of  the  mouth  of  a  poor  man  in  that  way 
would  be  certain  to  come  to  want  themselves  some 
day.  He  said  he  could  easily  have  paid  off  the  mort 
gage  on  his  house  and  let  his  little  girl  take  lessons 
on  the  melodeon  besides,  if  they'd  just  allowed  Pig 
gott  to  wobble  around  the  way  he  wanted  to. 

There  was  no  more  trouble  up  at  the  cemetery 


AN  UNFORTUNATE   OFFICIAL. 


269 


after  that  until  they  buried  old  Joe  Middles,  who 
used  to  have  the  fish-house  over  the  river  at  Dea 
con's.  They  entombed  the  old  man  on  Thursday 
night.  On  Friday  morning  one  of  the  Keysers  was 
walking  down  on  the  river-bank,  and  he  saw  a  man 
who  looked  very  much  like  Mr.  Middles  sitting  up 


in  a  canoe  out  in  the  stream  fishing.  He  watched  the 
man  as  he  caught  two  or  three  fish,  and  was  just 
about  to  conclude  that  it  was  some  unknown  brother 
of  Mr.  Middles,  when  the  fisherman  looked  up  and 
said, 


270  ELBOW-ROOM. 

"  Hello,  Harry." 

"  Who  are  you  ?"  asked  Keyser. 

"  Who  am  I  ?  Why,  Joe  Middles,  of  course. 
Who'd  you  think  I  was  ?"  remarked  the  fisherman. 

"  You  ain't  Joe  Middles,  for  he's  dead.  I  went  to 
his  funeral  yesterday." 

"  Funeral !"  exclaimed  the  fisherman  as  he  stepped 
ashore.  "  Well,  now,  by  George !  maybe  that  ex 
plains  the  thing.  I've  been  bothering  myself  the 
worst  kind  to  understand  something.  You  know 
that  I  remember  being  at  home  in  bed,  and  then  I 
went  to  sleep  somehow ;  and  when  I  woke  up,  it  was 
dark  as  pitch.  I  gave  a  kick  to  stretch  myself,  and 
knocked  the  lid  off*  of  this  thing  here — a  canoe  I 
thought  it  was ;  and  then  I  set  up  and  found  myself 
out  here  in  the  river.  I  took  the  lid  to  split  into 
paddles,  and  I  saw  on  it  a  plate  with  the  words  'Jo 
seph  Middles,  aged  sixty-four;'  and  I  couldn't  im 
agine  how  in  thunder  that  ever  got  on  that  lid. 
Howsomdever,  I  pulled  over  to  the  shanty  and  got 
some  lines  and  bait  and  floated  out  again,  thinking 
while  I  was  here  I  might  as  well  get  a  mess  of  fish 
before  I  got  home.  And  so  it's  a  coffin,  after  all, 
and  they  buried  me  yesterday.  Well,  that  beats  the 
very  old  Harry,  now,  don't  it  ?  I'm  going  to  row 
right  over  to  the  house.  How  it'll  skeer  the  old 
woman  to  see  me  coming  in  safe  and  sound  !" 

Then  the  resurrected  Mr.  Middles  paddled  off. 
The  cemetery  company  failed  the  following  month, 
from  inability  to  sell  the  lots. 


CHAPTER   XXII. 

JUSTICE,  AND  A  LITTLE  INJUSTICE. 

|HE  administration  of  justice  in  this  county 
is  chiefly  in  the  hands  of  Judge  Twiddler; 
and  while  his  methods  generally  are  excel 
lent,  he  sometimes  makes  unpleasant  mis 
takes.  Mr.  Mix  was  the  victim  of  one  such  blunder 
upon  a  recent  occasion.  Mr.  Mix  is  bald ;  and  in  order 
to  induce  his  hair  to  grow  again,  he  is  using  a  very 
excellent  article  of  "  hair  vigor "  upon  his  scalp. 
Some  time  ago  he  was  summoned  as  a  juryman  upon 
a  case  in  the  court,  and  upon  the  day  of  the  trial, 
just  before  the  hour  at  which  the  court  met,  he  re 
membered  that  he  had  not  applied  the  vigor  to  his 
head  that  morning.  He  had  only  a  few  minutes  to 
spare,  but  he  flew  up  stairs  and  into  the  dark  closet 
where  he  kept  the  bottle;  and  pouring  some  fluid 
upon  a  sponge,  he  rubbed  his  head  energetically. 
By  some  mishap  Mr.  Mix  got  hold  of  the  wrong 
bottle,  and  the  substance  with  which  he  inundated 
his  scalp  was  not  vigor,  but  the  black  varnish  with 
which  Mrs.  Mix  decorated  her  shoes.  However, 
Mix  didn't  perceive  the  mistake,  but  darted  down 
stairs,  put  on  his  hat  and  walked  off  to  the  court- 

271 


2/2  ELBOW-ROOM. 

room.  It  was  a  very  cold  morning,  and  by  the  time 
Mix  reached  his  destination  the  varnish  was  as  stiff 
as  a  stone.  He  felt  a  little  uncomfortable  about  the 
head,  and  he  endeavored  to  remove  his  hat  to  dis 
cover  the  cause  of  the  difficulty,  but  to  his  dismay 
it  was  immovable.  It  was  glued  fast  to  the  skin,  and 
his  efforts  to  take  it  off  gave  him  frightful  pain. 

Just  then  he  heard  his  name  called  by  the  crier, 
and  he  had  to  go  into  court  to  answer.  He  was  wild 
with  apprehension  of  coming  trouble ;  but  he  took 
his  seat  in  the  jury-box  and  determined  to  explain 
the  situation  to  the  court  at  the  earliest  possible 
moment.  As  he  sat  there  with  a  guilty  feeling  in 
his  soul  it  seemed  to  him  that  his  hat  kept  getting 
bigger  and  bigger,  until  it  appeared  to  him  to  be 
as  large  as  a  shot-tower.  Then  he  was  conscious 
that  the  lawyers  were  staring  at  him.  Then  the 
clerk  looked  hard  at  him  and  screamed,  "  Hats  off 
in  court!"  and  Mix  grew  crimson.  ''Hats  off!" 
yelled  the  clerk  again,  and  Mix  was  about  to  reply 
when  the  judge  came  in,  and  as  his  eye  rested  on 
Mix  he  said, 

"  Persons  in  the  court-room  must  remove  their 
hats." 

"  May  it  please  Your  Honor,  I  kept  my  hat  on  be 
cause — " 

"Well,  sir,  you  must  take  it  off  now." 
"  But  I  say  I  keep  it  on  because  I — " 
"  We  don't  want  any  arguments  upon  the  subject, 
sir.     Take  your  hat  off  instantly !"  said  the  judge. 


JUSTICE,  AND  A  LITTLE  INJUSTICE.        2/3 

"  But  you  don't  let  me—" 

"  Remove  that  hat  this  moment,  sir !  Are  you 
going  to  bandy  words  with  me,  sir  ?  Uncover  your 
head  at  once !" 

"  Judge,  if  you  will  only  give  me  a  chance  to — " 

"  This  is  intolerable !  Do  you  mean  to  insult  the 
court,  sir  ?  Do  you  mean  to  profane  this  sacred  tem 
ple  of  justice  with  untimely  levity?  Take  your  hat 
off,  sir,  or  I  will  fine  you  for  contempt.  Do  you 
hear  me  ?" 

"  Well,  it's  very  hard  that  I  can't  say  a  word  by 
way  of  ex — " 

"  This  is  too  much,"  said  the  judge,  warmly — "  this 
is  just  a  little  too  much.  Perhaps  you'd  like  to  come 
up  on  the  bench  here  and  run  the  court  and  sen 
tence  a  few  convicts  ?  Mr.  Clerk,  fine  that  man  fifty 
dollars.  Now,  sir,  remove  your  hat." 

"  Judge,  this  is  rough  on  me.     I — " 

"Won't  do  it  yet?"  said  the  judge,  furiously. 
"  Why,  you  impudent  scoundrel,  I've  a  notion  to — 
Mr.  Clerk,  fine  him  one  hundred  dollars  more,  and, 
Mr.  Jones,  you  go  and  take  that  hat  off  by  force." 

Then  the  tipstaff  approached  Mix,  who  was  by 
this  time  half  crazy  with  wrath,  and  hit  the  hat  with 
his  stick.  It  did  not  move.  Then  he  struck  it  again 
and  caved  in  the  crown,  but  it  still  remained  on  Mix's 
head.  Then  he  picked  up  a  volume  of  Brown  On 
Evidence,  and  mashed  the  crown  in  flat.  Then  Mix 
sprang  at  him ;  and  shaking  his  fist  under  the  nose 
of  Jones,  he  shrieked, 

18 


274 


ELBOW-ROOM. 


VJ-S 

"  You  miserable  scullion,  I've  half  a  notion  to 
kill  you !  If  that  jackass  on  the  bench  had  any 
sense,  he  could  see  that  the  hat  is  glued  fast.  I 
can't  take  it  off  if  I  wanted  to,  and  I  wouldn't  take 
it  off  now  if  I  could." 

Then  the  judge  removed  the  fines  and  excused 
him,  and  Mix  went  home.  He  slept  in  his  hat  for  a 
week ;  and  even  when  it  came  off,  the  top  of  his  head 
looked  as  black  as  if  mortification  had  set  in. 


JUSTICE,  AND  A   LITTLE  INJUSTICE.       2/5 

But  if  the  judge  is  too  particular,  our  sheriff  is 
hardly  careful  enough.  The  manner  in  which  he 
permits  our  jail  to  be  conducted  always  seemed  to 
me  interesting  and  original. 

One  day  I  wanted  to  hire  a  man  to  wheel  half  a 
dozen  loads  of  rubbish  out  of  my  garden,  and  after 
looking  around  a  while  I  found  a  seedy  chap  sitting 
on  the  end  of  a  wharf  fishing.  When  I  asked  him 
if  he  would  attend  to  the  job,  he  replied  thus : 

"I  really  can't.  I'm  sorry;  but  the  fact  is  I'm  in 
jail  for  six  months  for  larceny — sentenced  last  De 
cember.  I  don't  mind  it  much,  only  they  don't  act 
honest  with  me  up  at  the  jail.  The  first  week  I  was 
there  Mrs.  Murphy — she's  the  keeper's  wife — wanted 
to  clean  up,  and  so  she  turned  me  out,  and  I  had 
to  hang  round  homeless  for  more'n  a  week.  Then, 
just  as  I  was  getting  settled  agin  comfortably,  the 
provisions  ran  short,  and  Murphy  tried  to  borrow 
money  of  me  to  feed  the  convicts;  and  as  I  had 
none  to  lend,  out  I  had  to  go  agin.  In  about  two 
weeks  I  started  in  fresh  and  got  everything  snug 
and  cheerful,  when  Murphy's  aunt  stepped  out. 
Then  what  does  that  ass  do  but  put  me  out  agin  and 
lock  up  the  jail  and  put  crape  on  the  door,  while  he 
went  off  to  the  funeral. 

"  So,  of  course,  I  had  to  browse  around,  huntin' 
up  meals  where  I  could  get  them,  sometimes  nibblin' 
somethin'  at  the  tavern  and  other  times  takin'  tea 
with  a  friend.  Well,  sir,  hardly  was  that  old  woman 
buried,  and  me  once  more  in  the  cell  with  the  home 


2/6  ELBOW-ROOM. 

like  feelin'  beginnin'  to  creep  over  me,  but  Murphy, 
he  says  he  and  his  wife's  got  to  go  up  to  the  city  to 
get  a  hired  girl;  and  when  I  refused  to  quit,  Murphy 
grabbed  me  by  the  collar  and  pushed  me  into  the 
street,  and  said  he'd  sick  his  dog  on  me  if  I  came 
around  there  makin'  a  fuss. 

"  I  hung  about  a  few  days ;  and  when  I  went  to  the 
jail,  the  boy  said  Murphy  hadn't  got  back  and  I'd 
have  to  call  agin.  Next  time  I  applied  the  boy  hol 
lered  from  the  window  that  he  was  '  engaged '  and 
couldn't  see  me.  Murphy  was  still  rummagin'  for 
that  hired  girl.  I  went  there  eight  times,  and  there 
was  always  some  jackass  of  an  excuse  for  crowdin' 
me  out,  and  I  don't  know  if  I'll  ever  get  in  agin. 
Night  afore  last  I  busted  a  window  with  a  brick  and 
tried  to  crawl  in  through  the  hole,  but  the  boy  fired 
a  gun  at  me,  and  said  if  I'd  just  wait  till  Mr.  Murphy 
came  back  he'd  have  me  arrested  for  burglary. 

"  Now,  I  think  I've  been  treated  mighty  bad.  I've 
got  a  right  in  that  jail,  and  it's  pretty  mean  in  a  man 
like  Murphy  to  shove  me  off  in  weather  like  this ; 
and  I'm  bound  to  live  six  months  in  the  prison  some 
time  or  other,  whether  he  likes  it  or  not.  I  don't 
mind  puttin'  myself  to  some  trouble  to  oblige  a 
friend,  but  I  hate  like  thunder  to  be  imposed  on. 

"  'Pears  to  me  it's  no  way  to  run  a  penal  institution 
any  way.  There's  Botts ;  he's  in  jail  for  perjury  for 
nine  years,  and  Murphy's  actually  turned  that  convict 
out  so  often  and  made  him  run  'round  after  his  meals 
that  Botts  has  lost  heart,  and  has  gone  to  canvassin* 


JUSTICE,  AND  A   LITTLE  INJUSTICE.       2/7 

for  a  life  insurance  company — gone  to  perambulatin' 
all  over  the  country  tryin'  to  do  a  little  somethin'  to 
keep  clothes  on  his  back,  when  he  ought  to  be  layin' 
serenely  in  that  jail.  But  I  ain't  goin'  to  do  that 
If  the  law  keeps  me  in  custody,  it's  got  to  support 
me;  and  that's  what  Simpson  says,  too.  Ketch  him 
workin'  for  his  livin'.  He's  in  for  four  years  for  as 
sault  and  battery ;  and  when  they  turn  him  out  of 
the  jail,  he  puts  up  at  a  hotel  and  has  the  bills  sent 
in  to  Murphy. 

"  Murphy  don't  have  consideration  for  the  prisoners, 
any  way.  You  know  he  raises  fowls  in  the  jail-yard ; 
and  just  after  Christmas  he  had  a  big  lot  of  turkeys 
left  on  his  hands,  and  do  you  believe  that  man  act 
ually  kept  feedin'  us  on  those  turkeys  for  more  than 
a  month  ?  Positively  refused  to  allow  us  anything 
else  until  they  was  gone.  I  had  half  a  notion  to  quit 
for  good.  I  was  disgusted.  And  Simpson  said  if 
that  is  the  way  they  were  goin'  to  treat  convicts, 
why,  civilization  is  a  failure.  All  through  Lent,  too, 
wouldn't  allow  us  an  oyster;  kept  stuffin'  us  with 
beef  and  such  trash,  although  Botts  said  he'd  never 
been  used  to  such  wickedness,  for  his  parents  were 
very  particular.  Wouldn't  even  give  us  fish-balls 
twice  a  week.  But  what  does  Murphy  care?  He's 
perfectly  enthusiastic  when  he  can  tread  on  a  man's 
feelin's  and  stamp  all  the  moral  sensibility  out  of 
him. 

"And  Mrs.  Murphy,  she's  not  much  better.    All  the 
warm  days  she's  home  she  hustles  that  baby  of  hers 


2/8  ELBOW-ROOM. 

onto  me.  Makes  me  take  the  little  sucklin'  out  in 
his  carriage  for  an  airin',  and  then  gets  mad  if  he 
falls  out  while  I'm  conversin'  for  a  few  minutes  with 
a  friend.  I'd  a  slid  him  into  the  river  long  ago, 
only  I  know  well  enough  they'd  sentence  me  for 
life,  and  then  I'd  maybe  have  to  stand  Murphy's 
persecution  for  about  forty  years  ;  and  that'd  kill  me. 
It  would  indeed.  He's  so  inconsiderate. 

"  He  used  to  give  me  the  key  of  the  jail  to  keep 
while  he'd  go  over  to  Barnes'  to  fight  roosters  or  to 
play  poker,  and  one  day  I  lost  it.  He  raised  an  aw 
ful  fuss,  and  even  Botts  was  down  on  me  because 
they  couldn't  keep  the  boys  out,  and  they  used  to 
come  in  and  tickle  Botts  with  straws  while  he  was 
sleepin'  in  his  cell.  I  believe  they  expect  Murphy 
back  day  after  to-morrow,  but  I  know  mighty  well 
I'm  not  goin'  to  have  much  satisfaction  when  he  does 
come.  He'll  find  some  excuse  for  shufflin'  me  out 
'bout  as  soon  as  I  get  stowed  away  in  my  old  quar 
ters.  If  he  does,  I've  got  a  notion  to  lock  him  out 
some  night  and  run  the  jail  myself  for  a  while,  so's 
I  kin  have  some  peace.  There's  such  a  thing  as 
carryin'  abuses  a  little  too  far.  Excuse  me  for  a 
minute.  I  think  I  have  a  bite." 

Then  I  left  to  hunt  for  another  man.  I  feel  that 
the  Society  for  the  Alleviation  of  the  Sufferings  of 
Prisoners  has  a  great  work  to  perform  in  our  town. 


CHAPTER   XXIII. 

THE  TRAMP  WITH  GENIUS  AND  WITHOUT  IT. 

|HE  tramp  is  as  familiar  a  figure  in  the  vil 
lage  and  the  surrounding  country  as  he  is 
in  other  populous  rural  neighborhoods. 
The  ruffian  tramp,  of  course,  is  the  most 
constant  of  the  class,  but  now  and  then  appears  one 
of  the  fraternity  who  displays  something  like  genius 
in  his  attempts  to  impose  himself  upon  people  as  a 
being  of  a  higher  order  than  an  idle,  worthless  vaga 
bond.  A  fellow  of  this  description  came  into  the 
editorial  room  of  the  Patriot  one  day  while  I  was 
sitting  there,  and  announced  in  a  loud  voice  that  he 
was  a  professor  of  pisciculture  and  an  aspirant  for  a 
position  upon  the  State  Fish  Commission.  As  the 
statement  did  not  attract  the  attention  of  anybody,  he 
seated  himself  in  a  chair,  placed  his  feet  upon  the 
table,  and  aiming  with  surprising  accuracy  at  a 
spittoon,  said  his  name  was  Powell.  Still  nobody 
paid  any  attention  to  him,  but  the  fact  did  not  seem 
to  depress  his  spirits,  for  he  talked  straight  ahead 
fluently  and  with  some  vehemence : 

"  What  are  they  doing  for  the  fishery  interest,  any 
way,  these  commissioners?     What  do   they  know 

279 


280  ELBOW-ROOM. 

about  fishing  ?  More'n  likely  when  they  go  out 
they  hold  the  hook  in  their  hands  and  let  the  pole 
float  in  the  water.  Why,  one  of  'em  was  talking 
with  me  the  other  day,  and  says  he,  '  Powell,  I 
want  the  Legislature  to  make  an  appropriation  for 
the  cultivation  of  canned  lobsters  in  the  Susque- 
hanna.'  '  How  are  you  going  to  do  it  ?'  says  I. 
'Why/  says  he,  'my  plan  is  to  cross  the  original 
lobster  with  some  good  variety  of  tin  can,  breed 
'em  in  and  in,  and  then  feed  the  animal  on  solder 
and  green  labels.' 

"Perfect  ass,  of  course;  but  I  let  him  run  along, 
and  pretty  soon  he  says,  'I've  just  bought  half  a 
barrel  of  salt  mackerel,  which  I'm  going  to  put  in 
the  Schuylkill.  My  idea,'  says  he,  'is  to  breed  a 
mackerel  that'll  be  all  ready  soaked  when  you  catch 
him.  The  ocean  mackerel  always  tastes  too  much 
of  the  salt.  What  the  people  want  is  a  fish  that  is 
fresher.'  And  so,  you  know,  that  immortal  idiot  is 
actually  going  to  dump  those  mackerel  overboard 
in  the  hope  that  they'll  swim  about  and  make  them 
selves  at  home.  Well,  if  the  governor  will  appoint 
such  chuckle-head  commissioners,  what  else  can  you 
expect  ? 

"  However,  I  said  nothing.  I  wasn't  going  to  set 
him  up  in  business  with  my  brains  and  experience, 
and  so,  directly,  he  says  to  me,  '  Powell,  I'm  now 
engaged  in  transplanting  some  desiccated  codfish 
into  the  Schuylkill ;  but  it  scatters  too  much  when  it 
gets  into  the  water.  Now,  how  would  it  do  to  breed 


TRAMPS.  28l 

the  ordinary  codfish  with  a  sausage-chopper  or  a 
mince-meat  machine?  Do  you  think  a  desiccated 
codfish  would  rise  to  a  fly,  or  wouldn't  you  have  to 
fish  for  him  with  a  colander  ?'  And  so  he  kept  reel 
ing  out  a  jackassery  like  that  until  directly  he  said, 
'  I'll  tell  you,  professor,  what  this  country  needs  is  a 
fresh-water  oyster.  Now,  it  has  occurred  to  me  that 
maybe  the  best  variety  to  plant  would  be  the  ordi 
nary  fried  oyster.  It  seems  to  be  popular,  and  it 
has  the  advantage  of  growing  without  a  shell.  One 
of  the  other  commissioners,'  so  this  terrific  block 
head  said,  '  insisted  on  trying  the  experiment  with 
the  oyster  that  produces  tripe,  so's  to  enable  the 
people  to  catch  tripe  and  oysters  when  they  go  a- 
fishing.  But  for  my  part/  says  he, '  I  want  either  the 
fried  oyster  or  the  kind  that  grow  in  pie  crust,  like 
they  have  'em  at  the  restaurants.'  Actually  said 
that. 

"  Well,  he  driveled  along  for  a  while,  talking  the 
awfulest  bosh  ;  and  pretty  soon  he  asked  me  if  I 
was  fond  of  mock-turtle  soup.  Said  that  the  com 
mission  had  discovered  the  feasibility  of  adding  the 
mock-turtle  to  the  food-animals  of  our  rivers.  He 
allowed  that  he  had  understood  that  they  could  be 
cultivated  best  by  spawning  calves'  heads  on  force 
meat  balls,  and  that  they  were  in  season  for  the  table 
during  the  same  months  of  the  year  that  gravy  is. 
And  he  said  that  a  strenuous  effort  ought  to  be 
made  to  have  our  rivers  swarming  with  this  delicious 
fish. 


282  ELBOW-ROOM. 

"And  then  he  talked  a  whole  lot  of  delirious  slush 
of  that  kind,  and  about  improving  the  tadpole  crop, 
and  so  on,  until  I —  Wh-wh-what  d'you  say? 
Want  me  to  take  my  legs  off  that  table  and  quit  ? 
You  don't  want  to  hear  any  more  news  about  the 
fisheries?  Oh,  all  right;  there's  plenty  of  other 
papers  that'll  be  glad  to  get  the  intelligence.  Next 
time  you  want  my  views  about  pisciculture  you'll 
have  to  send  for  me." 

Then  the  professor  aimed  again  at  the  spittoon, 
missed  it,  rubbed  the  ragged  crown  of  his  forlorn 
hat  with  his  shining  elbow,  buttoned  up  his  coat  over 
a  shirt-bosom  which  last  saw  the  washerwoman  dur 
ing  the  presidency  of  General  Harrison,  and  saun 
tered  out  and  down  stairs.  The  impression  that  he 
left  was  that  he  would  be  more  available  to  the  Fish 
Commission  as  bait  than  in  any  other  capacity. 

Upon  another  occasion  a  more  forlorn  and  dismal 
vagabond,  a  cripple,  too,  sauntered  into  Brown's  gro 
cery-store,  where  a  crowd  was  sitting  around  the 
stove  discussing  politics.  Taking  position  upon  a 
nail-keg,  he  remarked, 

"  Mr.  Brown,  you  don't  want  to  buy  a  first-rate 
wooden  leg,  do  you  ?  Fve  got  one  that  I've  been 
wearing  for  two  or  three  years,  and  I  want  to  sell  it. 
I'm  hard  up  for  money;  and  although  I'm  attached 
to  that  leg,  I'm  willing  to  part  with  it  so's  I  kin  get 
the  necessaries  of  life.  Legs  are  all  well  enough ; 
they  are  handy  to  have  around  the  house,  and  all 
that ;  but  a  man  must  attend  to  his  stomach  if  he 


TRAMPS.  283 

has  to  walk  about  on  the  small  of  his  back.  Now, 
I'm  going  to  make  you  an  offer.  That  leg  is  Fair- 
child's  patent ;  steel  springs,  India-rubber  joints,  elas 
tic  toes  and  everything,  and  it's  in  better  order  now 
than  it  was  when  I  bought  it.  It'd  be  a  comfort  to 
any  man.  It's  the  most  luxurious  leg  I  ever  came 
across.  If  bliss  ever  kin  be  reached  by  a  man  this 
side  of  the  tomb,  it  belongs  to  the  person  that  gets 
that  leg  on  and  feels  the  consciousness  creeping  over 
his  soul  that  it  is  his.  Consequently,  I  say  that  when 
I  offer  it  to  you  I'm  doing  a  personal  favor ;  and  I 
think  I  see  you  jump  at  the  chance  and  want  to 
clinch  the  bargain  before  I  mention — you'll  hardly 
believe  it,  I  know — that  I'll  actually  knock  that  leg 
down  to  you  at  four  hundred  dollars.  Four  hun 
dred,  did  I  say  ?  I  meant  six  hundred ;  but  let  it 
stand.  I  never  back  out  when  I  make  an  offer ;  but 
it's  just  throwing  that  leg  away — it  is,  indeed." 

"  But  I  don't  want  an  artificial  leg,"  said  Brown. 

"The  beautiful  thing  about  the  limb,"  said  the 
stranger,  pulling  up  his  trousers  and  displaying  the 
article,  "  is  that  it  is  reliable.  You  kin  depend  on  it. 
It's  always  there.  Some  legs  that  I've  seen  were 
treacherous  —  most  always  some  of  the  springs 
bursting  out,  or  the  joints  working  backward,  or  the 
toes  turning  down  and  ketching  in  things.  Regular 
frauds.  But  it's  almost  pathetic  the  way  this  leg 
goes  on  year  in  and  year  out  like  an  old  faithful 
friend,  never  knowing  an  ache  or  a  pain,  no  rheum 
atism,  nor  any  such  foolishness  as  that,  but  always 


284  ELBOW-ROOM. 

good-natured  and  ready  to  go  out  of  its  way  to 
oblige  you.  A  man  feels  like  a  man  when  he  gets 
such  a  thing  under  him.  Talk  about  your  kings  and 
emperors  and  millionaires,  and  all  that  sort  of  non 
sense  !  Which  of  'em's  got  a  leg  like  that  ?  Which 
of  'em  kin  unscrew  his  knee-pan  and  look  at  the 
gum  thingamajigs  in  his  calf?  Which  of  'em  kin 
leave  his  leg  down  stairs  in  the  entry  on  the  hat-rack 
and  go  to  bed  with  only  one  cold  foot  ?  Why,  it's 
enough  to  make  one  of  them  monarchs  sick  to  think 
of  such  a  convenience.  But  they  can't  help  it.  There's 
only  one  man  kin  buy  that  leg,  and  that's  you.  I 
want  you  to  have  it  so  bad  that  I'll  deed  it  to  you 
for  fifty  dollars  down.  Awful,  isn't  it  ?  Just  throw 
ing  it  away ;  but  take  it,  take  it,  if  it  does  make  my 
heart  bleed  to  see  it  go  out  of  the  family." 

"  Really,  I  have  no  use  for  such  a  thing,"  said  Mr. 
Brown. 

"  You  can't  think,"  urged  the  stranger,  "  what  a 
benediction  a  leg  like  that  is  in  a  family.  When  you 
don't  want  to  walk  with  it,  it  comes  into  play  for  the 
children  to  ride  horsey  on;  or  you  kin  take  it  off 
and  stir  the  fire  with  it  in  a  way  that  would  depress 
the  spirits  of  a  man  with  a  real  leg.  It  makes  the 
most  efficient  potato-masher  you  ever  saw.  Work  it 
from  the  second  joint  and  let  the  knee  swing  loose ;  you 
kin  tack  carpets  perfectly  splendid  with  the  heel ;  and 
when  a  cat  sees  it  coming  at  him  from  the  winder, 
he  just  adjourns  sine  die  and  goes  down  off  the  fence 
screaming.  Now,  you're  probably  afeard  of  dogs. 


TRAMPS.  285 

When  you  see  one  approaching,  you  always  change 
your  base.  I  don't  blame  you ;  I  used  to  be  that 
way  before  I  lost  my  home-made  leg.  But  you  fix 
yourself  with  this  artificial  extremity,  and  then  what 
do  you  care  for  dogs  ?  If  a  million  of  'em  come  at 
you,  what's  the  odds  ?  You  merely  stand  still  and 
smile,  and  throw  out  your  spare  leg,  and  let  'em 
chaw,  let  'em  fool  with  that  as  much  as  they're  a 
mind  to,  and  howl  and  carry  on,  for  you  don't  care. 
An'  that's  the  reason  why  I  say  that  when  I  reflect 
on  how  imposing  you'd  be  as  the  owner  of  such  a 
leg  I  feel  like  saying  that  if  you  insist  on  offering 
only  a  dollar  and  a  half  for  it,  why,  take  it ;  it's  yours. 
I'm  not  the  kinder  man  to  stand  on  trifles.  I'll  take 
it  off  and  wrap  it  up  in  paper  for  you ;  shall  I  ?" 

"  I'm  sorry,"  said  Brown,  "  but  the  fact  is  I  have 
no  use  for  it.  I've  got  two  good  legs  already.  If  I 
ever  lose  one,  why,  maybe  then  I'll — " 

"  I  don't  think  you  exactly  catch  my  idea  on  the 
subject,"  said  the  stranger.  "  Now,  any  man  kin 
have  a  meat-and-muscle  leg ;  they're  as  common  as 
dirt.  It's  disgusting  how  monotonous  people  are 
about  such  things.  But  I  take  you  for  a  man  who 
wants  to  be  original.  You  have  style  about  you. 
You  go  it  alone,  as  it  were.  Now,  if  I  had  your 
peculiarities,  do  you  know  what  I'd  do  ?  I'd  get  a 
leg  snatched  off  some  way,  so's  I  could  walk  around 
on  this  one.  Or  if  you  hate  to  go  to  the  expense 
of  amputation,  why  not  get  your  pantaloons  altered 
and  mount  this  beautiful  work  of  art  just  as  you  stand  ? 


286  ELBOW-ROOM. 

A  centipede,  a  mere  ridicklous  insect,  has  half  a 
bushel  of  legs,  and  why  can't  a  man,  the  grandest 
creature  on  earth,  own  three?  You  go  around  this 
community  on  three  legs,  and  your  fortune's  made. 
People  will  go  wild  over  you  as  the  three-legged 
grocer ;  the  nation  will  glory  in  you ;  Europe  will 
hear  of  you  ;  you  will  be  heard  of  from  pole  to  pole. 
It'll  build  up  your  business.  People'll  flock  from 
every wheres  to  see  you,  and  you'll  make  your  sugar 
and  cheese  and  things  fairly  hum.  Look  at  it  as  an 
advertisement!  Look  at  it  any  way  you  please, 
and  there's  money  in  it — there's  glory,  there's  im 
mortality.  I  think  I  see  you  now  moving  around 
ove/  this  floor  with  your  old  legs  working  as  usual, 
and  this  one  going  clickety-click  along  with  'em, 
making  music  for  you  all  the  time  and  attracting  at 
tention  in  a  way  to  fill  a  man's  heart  with  rapture. 
Now,  look  at  it  that  way;  and  if  it  strikes  you,  I 
tell  you  what  I'll  do :  I'll  actually  swap  that  imper 
ishable  leg  off  to  you  for  two  pounds  of  water- 
crackers  and  a  tin  cup  full  of  Jamaica  rum.  Is  it 
ago?" 

Then  Brown  weighed  out  the  crackers,  gave  him 
an  awful  drink  of  rum,  and  told  him  if  he  would  take 
them  as  a  present  and  quit  he  would  confer  a  favor. 
And  he  did.  After  emptying  the  crackers  in  his 
pockets  and  smacking  his  lips  over  the  rum,  he  went 
to  the  door,  and  as  he  opened  it  he  said, 

"  Good-bye.  But  if  you  ever  really  do  want  a  leg, 
Old  Reliable  is  ready  for  you ;  it's  yours.  I  consider 


TRAMPS.  287 

that  you've  got  a  mortgage  on  it,  and  you  kin  fore 
close  at  any  time.  I  dedicate  this  leg  to  you.  My 
will  shall  mention  it ;  and  if  you  don't  need  it  when 
I  die,  I'm  going  to  have  it  put  in  the  savings'  bank  to 
draw  interest  until  you  check  it  out.  I'll  bid  you 
good- evening." 

The  tramp  that  has  a  dog  to  sell  is  a  little  more 
common  than  such  children  of  genius  as  the  profes 
sor  and  the  owner  of  the  patent  leg.  But  I  had  with 
one  of  them  a  queer  experience  which  may  be  worth 
relating. 

One  day  recently  a  rough-looking  vagabond 
called  at  my  house,  accompanied  by  a  forlorn 
mongrel  dog.  I  came  out  upon  the  porch  to  see 
him,  and  he  said, 

"  I  say,  pardner,  I  understood  that  you  wanted  to 
buy  a  watch-dog,  and  I  brought  one  around  for  you. 
You  never  seen  such  a  dog  for  watching  as  this  one. 
You  tell  that  dog  to  watch  a  thing,  and  bet  your  life 
he'll  sit  down  and  watch  it  until  he  goes  stone  blind. 
Now,  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  let  you  have — " 

I  cut  his  remarks  short  at  this  point  with  the  in 
formation  that  I  didn't  want  a  dog,  and  that  if  I  had 
wanted  a  dog  nothing  on  earth  could  induce  me  to 
accept  that  particular  dog.  So  he  left  and  went 
down  the  street.  He  must  have  made  a  mistake 
and  come  in  again  through  the  back  gate,  thinking 
it  was  another  place,  for  in  a  few  minutes  the  cook 
said  there  was  a  man  in  the  kitchen  who  wanted  to 
see  me ;  and  when  I  went  down,  there  was  the  same 


288  ELBOW-ROOM. 

man  with  the  same  dog.  He  didn't  recognize  me, 
and  as  soon  as  I  entered  he  remarked, 

"  I  say,  old  pard,  somebody  was  saying  that  you 
wanted  to  buy  a  watch-dog.  Now,  here's  a  watch 
dog  that'd  rather  watch  than  eat  any  time.  Give 
that  dog  something  to  fasten  his  eye  on — don't  care 
what  it  is :  anything  from  a  plug  hat  to  a  skating- 
rink — and  there  his  eye  stays  like  it  was  chained  with 
a  trace-chain.  Now,  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do  with — " 

I  suddenly  informed  him  in  a  peremptory  tone 
that  nothing  would  induce  me  to  purchase  a  dog  at 
that  moment,  and  then  I  pushed  him  out  and  shut 
the  door.  When  he  was  gone,  I  went  across  the 
street  to  see  Butterwick  about  top-dressing  my  grass- 
plot.  He  was  out,  and  I  sat  down  on  the  porch 
chair  to  wait  for  him.  A  second  later  the  proprie 
tor  of  the  dog  came  shuffling  through  the  gate  with 
the  dog  at  his  heels.  When  he  reached  the  porch, 
he  said,  not  recognizing  me, 

"  I  say,  pardner,  the  man  across  the  street  there 
told  me  you  wanted  a  good  watch-dog,  and  I  came 
right  over  with  this  splendid  animal.  Look  at  him ! 
Never  saw  such  an  eye  as  that  in  a  dog,  now,  did 
you  ?  Well,  now,  when  this  dog  fixes  that  eye  on 
anything,  it  remains.  There  it  stays.  Earthquakes, 
or  fires,  or  torchlight  processions,  or  bones,  or  noth 
ing,  can  induce  him  to  move.  Therefore,  what  I 
say  is  that  I  offer  you  that  dog  for — " 

Then  I  got  up  in  silence  and  walked  deliberately 
out  into  the  street,  and  left  the  man  standing  there. 


TRAMPS. 


289 


As  I  reached  the  sidewalk  I  saw  Butterwick  going 
into  Col.  Coffin's  office.  I  went  over  after  him, 
while  the  man  with  the  dog  went  in  the  opposite 
direction.  Butterwick  was  in  the  back  office ;  and  as 

19 


2QO  ELBOW-ROOM. 

the  front  room  was  empty,  I  sat  down  in  a  chair  until 
he  got  through  with  Coffin  and  came  out.  In  a  few 
minutes  there  was  a  rap  at  the  door.  I  said, 

"  Come  in !" 

The  door  slowly  opened,  and  a  dog  crept  in. 
Then  the  man  appeared.  He  didn't  seem  to  know 
me.  He  said, 

"  I  say,  old  pardy — I  dunno  your  right  name — I'm 
trying  to  sell  a  watch-dog ;  that  one  there ;  and  I 
thought  maybe  you  might  be  hungry  to  get  a  valu 
able  animal  who  can  watch  the  head  off  of  any  other 
dog  in  this  yer  county,  so  I  concluded  to  call  and 
throw  him  away  for  the  ridic'lous  sum  of — " 

"  I  wouldn't  have  him  at  any  price." 

"  What !  don't  want  him  ?  Don't  want  a  dog  with 
an  eye  like  a  two-inch  auger,  that'll  sit  and  watch  a 
thing  for  forty  years  if  you'll  tell  him  to  ?  Don't 
want  a  dog  like  that  ?" 

"  Certainly  I  don't." 

"  Well,  this  is  singular.  There  don't  appear  to  be 
a  demand  for  watch-dogs  in  this  place,  now,  does 
there?  You're  the  fourth  man  I've  tackled  about 
him.  You  really  don't  want  him  ?" 

"  Of  course  not." 

"  Don't  want  any  kind  of  a  dog — not  even  a  litter 
of  good  pups  or  a  poodle  ?" 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Well,  maybe  you  could  lend  me  five  dollars  on 
that  dog.  I'll  pay  you  back  to-morrow." 

"  Can't  do  it." 


TRAMPS.  291 

"  Will  you  take  him  as  a  gift,  and  give  me  a  chaw 
of  terbacker?" 

"  I  don't  chew." 

"Very  strange,"  he  muttered,  thoughtfully.  "There's 
no  encouragement  for  a  man  in  this  world.  Sure 
you  won't  take  him  ?" 

"  Yes,  certain." 

"  Then,  you  miserable  whelp,  git  out  of  here,  or 
I'll  kick  the  breath  out  of  you.  Come,  now,  git !" 
And  he  gave  the  dog  a  kick  that  sent  him  into  the 
middle  of  the  street,  and  then  withdrew  himself. 

The  trade  in  dogs  certainly  is  not  active  in  Mill- 
burg. 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 

THE  DOG  OF  MR.  BUTTERWICK' S,  AND  OTHER 
DOGS. 

|NE  day  I  met  Mr.  Butterwick  in  the  street 
leading  his  dog  with  a  chain.  He  said  that 
it  was  a  very  valuable  dog  and  he  was 
anxious  to  get  it  safely  home,  but  he  had 
to  catch  a  train,  and  I  would  confer  a  personal  favor 
upon  him  if  I  would  take  the  dog  to  my  house  and 
keep  it  until  he  returned  from  the  city.  The  under 
taking  was  not  a  pleasant  one,  but  I  disliked  to  dis 
oblige  Butterwick,  and  so  I  consented.  Butterwick 
gave  me  his  end  of  the  chain  and  left  in  a  hurried 
manner.  I  got  the  dog  home  with  the  greatest  diffi 
culty,  and  turned  it  into  the  cellar.  About  an  hour 
later  I  received  a  telegram  from  Butterwick  saying 
that  he  had  been  compelled  to  go  down  to  the  lower 
part  of  Jersey,  and  that  he  wouldn't  be  home  for  a 
week  or  two.  That  was  on  the  I2th  of  June,  and 
after  that  time  only  two  persons  entered  the  cellar. 
The  hired  girl  went  down  once  after  the  cold  beef, 
and  came  up  disheveled  and  bleeding,  with  a  number 
of  appalling  dog-bites  in  her  legs,  and  I  descended 
immediately  afterward  for  the  purpose  of  pacifying 

292 


BUTTERWICK' S  DOG. 


293 


the    infuriated   animal.      He  did   not  feel  disposed 
to  become    calm,  however,  and  I  deem  it  probable 

that  if  I  had  not 
suddenly  clamber 
ed  into  the  coal- 
bin,  where  I 
mained  until 


re- 
he 

fell  asleep  in  a 
distant  corner 
about  four  hours 
later,  I  should  cer 
tainly  have  been 
torn  to  pieces. 
We  thought  we 
would  have  to  try 
to  get  along  with 


out  using  the  cellar  until  Butterwick  could  come  up 
and  take  away  his  dog.     But  Butterwick  wrote  to 


294  ELBOW-ROOM. 

say  that  he  couldn't  come,  and  the  dog,  after  eating 
everything  in  the  cellar  and  barking  all  through 
every  night,  finally  bolted  up  stairs  into  the  kitchen 
on  the  2d  of  July,  and  established  himself  in  the 
back  yard.  After  that  we  used  the  front  door  ex 
clusively  while  we  were  waiting  for  Butterwick  to 
come  up.  The  dog  had  fits  regularly,  and  he  always 
got  on  the  geranium-bed  when  he  felt  them  coming 
on  ;  and  consequently,  we  did  not  enjoy  our  flowers 
as  much  as  we  hoped  to.  The  cherries  were  ripe 
during  the  reign  of  Butterwick's  dog,  but  they  rot 
ted  on  the  trees,  all  but  a  few,  which  were  picked  by 
Smith's  boy,  who  subsequently  went  over  the  fence 
in  a  sensational  manner  without  stopping  to  ascer 
tain  what  Butterwick's  dog  was  going  to  do  with  the 
mouthful  of  drawers  and  corduroy  trousers  that  he 
had  removed  from  Smith's  boy's  leg.  As  Butter- 
wick  did  not  come  up,  the  dog  enjoyed  himself 
roaming  about  the  yard  a  while ;  but  one  day,  finding 
the  back  window  in  the  parlor  open,  he  jumped  in 
and  assumed  control  of  that  apartment  and  the  hall. 
I  tried  to  dislodge  him  with  a  clothes-prop,  but  I 
only  succeeded  in  knocking  two  costly  vases  off  of 
the  mantel-piece,  and  the  dog  became  so  excited  and 
threatening  that  I  shut  the  door  hurriedly  and  went 
up  stairs  four  steps  at  a  time. 

There  was  nothing  to  interest  him  especially  in 
the  parlor,  and  I  cannot  imagine  why  he  wanted  to 
stay  there.  But  he  did ;  and  as  Butterwick  didn't 
come  up,  we  couldn't  dislodge  him.  On  Thursday 


BUTTERWICK'S  DOG.  295 

he  smashed  the  mirror  during  an  attempt  to  get  up  a 
fight  with  another  dog  that  he  thought  he  saw  in  there, 
and  he  clawed  the  sofa  to  rags.  On  Saturday  he  had 
a  fit  in  the  hall,  and  spoiled  about  eight  square  yards 
of  Brussels  carpet  utterly.  When  he  recovered,  he 
went  back  into  the  parlor.  At  last  I  borrowed  Cof 
fin's  dog  and  sent  him  in  to  fight  Butterwick's  dog 
out.  It  was  an  exhilarating  contest.  They  fought 
on  the  chairs  and  sofas;  they  upset  a  table  and 
smashed  all  the  ornaments  on  it;  they  scattered 
blood  and  hair  in  blotches  all  over  the  carpet ;  they 
got  entangled  in  one  of  the  lace  curtains  and  dragged 
it  and  the  frame  down  with  a  crash ;  they  scratched 
and  bit  and  tore  and  frothed  and  yelled ;  and  at  last 
Coffin's  dog  gave  in,  put  his  tail  between  his  legs 
and  retreated,  while  Butterwick's  dog  got  on  a  sixty- 
dollar  Turkish  rug,  so  that  he  could  bleed  comfort 
ably. 

It  didn't  seem  to  occur  to  him  to  go  home,  and 
still  Butterwick  didn't  come  up.  The  next  day  I 
loaded  a  shot-gun  and  determind  to  kill  him  at  any 
sacrifice.  I  aimed  carefully  at  him,  but  at  the  critical 
moment  he  dodged,  and  two  handfuls  of  bird-shot 
went  into  the  piano  and  tore  it  up  badly.  Then  I 
tossed  some  poisoned  meat  at  him,  but  he  ate  all 
around  the  poison,  and  seemed  to  feel  better  after  the 
meal  than  he  had  done  for  years.  Finally,  Butter- 
wick  came  home,  and  he  called  to  get  his  dog.  He 
entered  the  parlor  bravely  and  attempted  to  seize  the 
animal,  when  it  bit  him.  I  was  never  so  glad  in  my 


296  ELBOW-ROOM. 

life.  Then  Butterwick  got  mad ;  and  seizing  the  dog 
by  the  tail,  he  smashed  him  through  my  French 
glass  window  into  the  street.  Then  I  was  not  so 
very  glad.  Then  the  dog  went  mad  and  a  policeman 
killed  him.  The  next  time  I  am  asked  to  take  a 
strange  dog  home  I  will  kill  him  to  begin  with. 

When  I  explained  to  Colonel  Coffin  the  unpleasant 
nature  of  my  experience  with  Mr.  Butterwick's  dog, 
the  colonel  said  that  he  had  had  a  good  deal  to  do 
lately,  in  a  legal  way,  with  dogs ;  and  he  gave  me 
the  facts  respecting  two  interesting  cases.  The  first 
was  Tompkins'  case. 

A  man  called  at  the  colonel's  law-office  one  day 
and  said, 

"  Colonel,  my  name  is  Tompkins.  I  called  to  see 
you  about  a  dog  difficulty  that  bewilders  me,  and  I 
thought  maybe  you  might  throw  some  light  on  it — 
might  give  me  the  law  points,  so's  I'd  know  whether 
it  was  worth  while  suing  or  not. 

"  Well,  colonel,  you  see  me  and  Potts  went  into 
partnership  on  a  dog ;  we  bought  him.  He  was  a 
setter;  and  me  and  Potts  went  shares  on  him,  so's  to 
take  him  out  a-hunting.  It  was  never  exactly  settled 
which  half  of  him  I  owned  and  which  half  belonged 
to  Potts ;  but  I  formed  an  idea  in  my  own  mind  that 
the  hind  end  was  Tompkins'  and  the  front  end  Potts'. 
Consequence  was  that  when  the  dog  barked  I  always 
said,  'There  goes  Potts'  half  exercising  himself;'  and 
when  the  dog's  tail  wagged,  I  always  considered  that 
my  end  was  being  agitated.  And,  of  course,  when 


MR.   TOMPKIN&  CASE.  29? 

one  of  my  hind  legs  scratched  one  of  Potts'  ears  or 
one  of  his  shoulders,  I  was  perfectly  satisfied — first, 
because  that  sort  of  thing  was  good  for  the  whole 
dog ;  and,  second,  because  the  thing  would  get  about 
even  when  Potts'  head  would  reach  around  and  bite 
a  flea  off  my  hind  legs  or  snap  at  a  fly. 

"  Well,  things  went  along  smooth  enough  for  a 
while,  until  one  day  that  dog  began  to  get  into  the 
habit  of  running  around  after  his  tail.  He  was  the 
foolishest  dog  about  that  I  ever  saw.  Used  to  chase 
his  tail  round  and  round  until  he'd  get  so  giddy  he 
couldn't  bark.  And  you  know  I  was  scared  lest  it 
might  hurt  the  dog's  health ;  and  as  Potts  didn't  seem 
to  be  willing  to  keep  his  end  from  circulating  in  pur 
suit  of  my  end,  I  made  up  my  mind  to  chop  the  dog's 
tail  off,  so's  to  make  him  reform  and  behave.  So  last 
Saturday  I  caused  the  dog  to  back  up  agin  a  log,  and 
then  I  suddenly  dropped  the  axe  on  his  tail  pretty 
close  up,  and  the  next  minute  he  was  running  around 
that  yard  howling  like  a  boat-load  of  wild-cats.  Just 
then  Potts  came  up,  and  he  let  on  to  be  mad  because 
I'd  cut  off  that  tail.  One  word  brought  on  another; 
and  pretty  soon  Potts  set  that  dog  on  me — my  own 
half  too,  mind  you — and  the  dog  bit  me  in  the  leg. 
See  that !  look  at  that  leg !  About  half  a  pound 
gone ;  et  up  by  that  dog. 

"  Now,  what  I  want  to  see  you  about  is  this :  Can't 
I  recover  damages  for  assault  and  battery  from  Potts  ? 
What  I  chopped  off  belonged  to  me,  recollect.  I 
owned  an  undivided  half  of  that  setter  pup,  from  the 


298  ELB  OW-RO  OM. 

tip  of  his  tail  clear  up  to  his  third  rib,  and  I  had  a 
right  to  cut  away  as  much  of  it  as  I'd  a  mind  to  ; 
while  Potts,  being  sole  owner  of  the  dog's  head,  is 
responsible  when  he  bites  anybody,  or  when  he  barks 
at  nights." 

"  I  don't  know,"  replied  the  colonel,  musingly. 
"  There  haven't  been  any  decisions  on  cases  exactly 
like  this.  But  what  does  Mr.  Potts  say  upon  the 
subject?" 

"  Why,  Potts'  view  is  that  I  divided  the  dog  the 
wrong  way.  When  he  wants  to  map  out  his  half 
he  draws  a  line  from  the  middle  of  the  nose  right 
along  the  spine  and  clear  to  the  end  of  the  tail. 
That  gives  me  one  hind  leg  and  one  fore  leg  and 
makes  him  joint  proprietor  in  the  tail.  And  he  says 
that  if  I  wanted  to  cut  off  my  half  of  the  tail  I  might 
have  done  it,  and  he  wouldn't  Ve  cared,  but  what 
made  him  mad  was  that  I  wasted  his  property  with 
out  consulting  him.  But  that  theory  seems  to  me  a 
little  strained;  and  if  it's  legal,  why,  I'm  going  to 
close  out  my  half  of  the  dog  at  a  sacrifice  sooner 
than  hold  any  interest  in  him  on  those  principles. 
Now,  what  do  you  think  about  it  ?" 

"  Well,"  said  the  colonel,  "  I  can  hardly  decide  so 
important  a  question  ofif-hand  ;  but  at  the  first  glance 
my  opinion  is  that  you  own  the  whole  dog,  and  that 
Potts  also  owns  the  whole  dog.  So  when  he  bites 
you,  a  suit  won't  lie  against  Potts,  and  the  only  thing 
you  can  do  to  obtain  justice  is  to  make  the  dog  bite 
Potts  also.  As  for  the  tail,  when  it  is  separated  from 


MR.    TO MP KINS'    CASE.  299 

the  dog  it  is  no  longer  the  dog's  tail,  and  it  is  not 
worth  fighting  about." 

"  Can't  sue  Potts,  you  say  ?" 

"  I  think  not." 

"  Can't  get  damages  for  the  piece  that's  been  bit 
out  of  me  ?'" 

"  I  hardly  think  you  can." 

"Well,  well,  and  yet  they  talk  about  American 
civilization,  and  temples  of  justice,  and  such  things ! 
All  right.  Let  it  go.  I  can  stand  it;  but  don't 
anybody  ever  undertake  to  tell  me  that  the  law 
protects  human  beings  in  their  rights.  Good- 
morning." 

"  Wait  a  moment,  Mr.  Tompkins ;  you've  forgot 
ten  my  fee." 

"  F-f-f-fee !  Why,  you  don't  charge  anything 
when  I  don't  sue,  do  you  ?" 

"  Certainly,  for  my  advice.  My  fee  is  ten  dol 
lars." 

"  Ten  dollars !  Ten  dollars  !  Why,  colonel,  that's 
just  what  I  paid  fur  my  half  of  that  dog.  I  haven't 
got  fifty  cents  to  my  name.  But  I'll  tell  you  what 
I'll  do  :  I'll  make  over  all  my  rights  in  that  setter 
pup  to  you,  and  you  kin  go  round  and  fight  it  out 
with  Potts.  If  that  dog  bites  me  again,  I'll  sue  you 
and  Potts  as  sure  as  my  name's  Tompkins." 

The  other  case  was  of  a  somewhat  more  serious 
character.  Upon  a  subsequent  occasion  a  man  hob 
bled  into  the  office  upon  crutches.  Proceeding  to  a 
chair  and  making  a  cushion  of  some  newspapers,  he 


3OO  ELBOW-ROOM. 

sat  down  very  gingerly,  placed  a  bandaged  leg  upon 
another  chair,  and  said, 

"  Col.  Coffin,  my  name  is  Briggs.  I  want  to  get 
your  opinion  about  a  little  point  of  law.  Now, 
colonel,  s'posin'  you  lived  up  the  'pike  here  a  half  a 
mile,  next  door  to  a  man  named  Johnson.  And 
s'posin'  you  and  Johnson  was  to  get  into  an  argu 
ment  about  the  human  intellect,  and  you  was  to  say 
to  Johnson  that  a  splendid  illustration  of  the  superi 
ority  of  the  human  intellect  was  to  be  found  in  the 
power  of  the  human  eye  to  restrain  the  ferocity  of  a 
wild  animal.  And  s'posin'  Johnson  was  to  remark 
that  that  was  all  bosh,  because  nobody  could  hold  a 
wild  animal  with  the  human  eye,  and  you  should 
declare  that  you  could  hold  the  savagest  beast  that 
was  ever  born  if  you  could  once  fix  your  gaze  on 
him. 

"  Well,  then,  s'posin'  Johnson  was  to  say  he'd  bet 
a  hundred  dollars  he  could  bring  a  tame  animal  that 
you  couldn't  hold  with  your  eye,  and  you  was  to 
take  him  up  on  it,  and  Johnson  was  to  ask  you  to 
come  down  to  his  place  to  settle  the  bet.  You'd  go, 
we'll  say,  and  Johnson'd  wander  round  to  the  back 
of  the  house  and  pretty  soon  come  front  again  with 
a  dog  bigger'n  any  four  decent  dogs  ought  to  be. 
And  then  s'posin'  Johnson'd  let  go  of  that  dog  and 
set  him  on  you,  and  he'd  come  at  you  like  a  sixteen- 
inch  shell  out  of  a  howitzer,  and  you'd  get  scary 
about  it  and  try  to  hold  the  dog  with  your  eye,  and 
couldn't.  And  s'posin'  you'd  suddenly  conclude 


S'POSIN'.  301 

that  maybe  your  kind  of  an  eye  wasn't  calculated  to 
hold  that  kind  of  a  dog,  and  you'd  conclude  to  run 
for  a  plum  tree  in  order  to  have  a  chance  to  collect 
your  thoughts,  and  to  try  to  reflect  what  sort  of  an 
eye  would  be  best  calculated  to  mollify  that  sort  of 
a  dog.  You  ketch  my  idea,  of  course? 

"  Very  well,  then  ;  s'posin  you'd  take  your  eye  off 
of  that  dog,  Johnson,  mind  you,  all  the  time  hiss 
ing  him  on  and  laughing,  and  you'd  turn  and  rush 
for  the  tree,  and  begin  to  swarm  up  as  fast  as  you 
could.  Well,  sir,  s'posin'  just  as  you  got  three  feet 
from  the  ground  Johnson's  dog  would  grab  you  by 
the  leg  and  hold  on  like  a  vise,  shaking  you  until 
you  nearly  lost  your  hold.  And  s'posin'  Johnson 
was  to  stand  there  and  holloa,  '  Fix  your  eye  on  him, 
Briggs  !  Why  don't  you  manifest  the  power  of  the 
human  intellect?'  and  so  on,  howling  out  ironical 
remarks  like  those ;  and  s'posin'  he  kept  that  dog  on 
that  leg  until  he  made  you  swear  to  pay  the  bet,  and 
then  at  last  had  to  pry  the  dog  off  with  a  hot  poker, 
bringing  away  at  the  same  time  some  of  your  flesh 
in  the  dog's  mouth,  so  that  you  had  to  be  carried 
home  on  a  stretcher,  and  to  hire  several  doctors  to 
keep  you  from  dying  with  lockjaw. 

"  S'posin'  this,  what  I  want  to  know  is,  couldn't 
you  sue  Johnson  for  damages  and  make  him  pay 
heavily  for  what  that  dog  did  ?  That's  what  I  want 
to  get  at." 

The  colonel  thought  for  a  minute  and  then  said, 

"  Well,  Mr.  Briggs,  I  don't  think  I  could.     If  I 


302  ELBOW-ROOM. 

agreed  to  let  Johnson  set  the  dog  at  me,  I  should  be 
a  party  to  the  transaction  and  I  could  not  recover." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  the  law  won't  make 
that  infernal  scoundrel  Johnson  suffer  for  letting  his 
dog  eat  me  up  ?" 

"  I  think  not,  if  you  state  the  case  properly." 

"  It  won't,  hey  ?"  exclaimed  Mr.  Briggs,  hyster 
ically.  "  Oh,  very  well,  very  well !  I  s'pose  if  that 
dog  had  chewed  me  all  up  and  spit  me  out  it'd  've 
been  all  the  same  to  this  constitutional  republic. 
But  hang  me  if  I  don't  have  satisfaction.  I'll  kill 
Johnson,  poison  his  dog,  and  emigrate  to  some 
country  where  the  rights  of  citizens  are  protected. 
If  I  don't,  you  may  bust  me  open !" 

Then  Mr.  Briggs  got  on  his  crutches  and  hobbled 
out.  He  is  still  a  citizen,  and  will  vote  at  the  next 
election. 


CHAPTER    XXV. 

A  PERSECUTED  JOURNALIST. 

| HAT  the  editor  of  every  daily  paper  is 
persecuted  by  poetasters  is  an  unquestion 
able  fact;  and  it  is  probable  that  some  of 
the  worst  of  the  sufferers  would  be  justi 
fied  in  taking  extreme  measures  to  protect  themselves 
from  such  outrages.  But  that  Major  Slott  of  The 
Patriot  ever  proposed  to  murder  a  poet  in  self-de 
fence  I  doubt.  The  editor  of  a  rival  sheet  in  our 
county  declares,  however,  that  the  major  actually 
thirsts  for  blood;  and  in  proof  of  the  assertion  he 
has  printed  the  following  narrative,  which,  he  says, 
he  obtained  from  Mr.  Grady,  the  policeman : 

"  One  day  recently  the  major  sent  for  a  police 
man  ;  and  when  Mr.  Grady,  of  the  force,  arrived,  the 
major  shut  the  door  of  his  sanctum  and  asked  him 
to  take  a  seat. 

"  4  Mr.  Grady/  he  said,  '  your  profession  necessa 
rily  brings  you  into  contact  with  the  criminal  classes 
and  familiarizes  you  with  them.  This  is  why  I  have 
sent  for  you.  My  business  is  of  a  confidential  na 
ture,  and  I  trust  to  your  honor  to  regard  it  as  a 
sacred  trust  confided  in  you.  Mr.  Grady,  I  wish  to 

203 


304  ELBOW-RO  OM. 

ascertain  if  among  your  acquaintances  of  the  crimi 
nal  sort  you  know  of  any  one  who  is  a  professional 
assassin — who  rents  himself  out  to  any  one  who 
wants  to  destroy  a  fellow-creature  ?  Do  you  know 
of  such  a  person  ?' 

"  '  I  dunno  as  I  do,'  said  Mr.  Grady,  thoughtfully 
rubbing  his  chin.  'There's  not  much  demand  for 
murderers  now.' 

"  '  Well,'  said  the  editor, '  I  wish  you'd  look  around 
and  see  if  you  can  light  on  such  a  man,  and  get  him 
to  do  a  little  job  for  me.  I  want  a  butcher  who  will 
slay  a  person  whom  I  will  designate.  I  don't  care 
how  he  does  it.  He  may  stab  him,  or  drown  him, 
or  bang  him  with  a  shot-gun.  It  makes  no  difference 
to  me ;  I  will  pay  him  all  the  same.  Now,  will  you 
get  me  such  a  man  ?' 

"  '  I  s'pose  I  might.     I'll  look  round,  any  way.' 

"  '  Between  you  and  me/  said  the  editor, '  the  chap 
I'm  going  to  assassinate  is  a  poet — a  fellow  named 
Markley.  He  has  been  sending  poetry  to  this  paper 
every  day  for  eight  months.  I  never  printed  a  line, 
but  he  keeps  stuffing  it  in  as  if  he  thought  I  was  depos 
iting  it  in  the  bank  and  drawing  interest  on  it.  Well, 
sir,  it's  got  to  be  so  bad  that  it  annoys  me  terribly. 
It  keeps  me  awake  at  night.  I'm  losing  flesh.  That 
man  and  his  poetry  haunt  me.  I'm  getting  gloomy 
and  morose.  Life  is  beginning  to  pall  upon  me.  I 
seem  to  be  under  the  influence  of  a  perpetual  night 
mare.  I  can't  stand  it  much  longer,  Mr.  Grady ;  my 
reason  will  totter  upon  its  throne.  Here,  only  this 


A   PERSECUTED   JOURNALIST.  305 

morning,  he  sent  me  a  poem  entitled  "  Lines  to 
Hannah."  Are  you  fond  of  poetry,  Grady  ?' 

"  '  Oh,  I  dunno ;  I  don't  care  so  very  much  about 
it.' 

"  '  Well,  I'll  read  you  one  verse  of  the  "  Lines  to 
Hannah."  He  says — to  Hannah,  mind  you — 

"  The  little  birds  sing  sweetly 

In  the  weeping  willows  green, 
The  village  girls  dress  neatly — 
Oh,  tell  me,  do  I  dream  ?" 

Now,  you  see,  Grady,  that  is  what  is  unseating  my 
mind.  A  man  can't  stand  more  than  a  certain  amount 
of  that  kind  of  thing.  What  do  the  public  care 
whether  he  is  dreaming  or  whether  he  is  drunk? 
What  doe»  Hannah  care  ?  Why,  they  don't  care  a 
cent.  Now,  do  they  ?' 

" '  Not  a  red  cent.' 

"  '  Of  course  not.  And  yet  Markley  sends  me  an 
other  poem,  entitled  "Despondency,"  in  which  he 
exclaims, 

"  Oh,  bury  me  deep  in  the  ocean  blue, 
Where  the  roaring  billows  laugh ; 
Oh,  cast  me  away  on  the  weltering  sea, 
Where  the  dolphins  will  bite  me  in  half." 

Now,  Mr.  Grady,  if  you  can  find  a  competent  assas 
sin,  I  wouldn't  make  it  a  point  with  him  to  oblige 
Mr.  Markley.  I  don't  care  particularly  to  have  the 
poet  buried  in  the  weltering  sea.  If  he  can't  find  a 
roaring  billow,  I'll  be  perfectly  satisfied  to  have  him 
20 


306  ELBOW-ROOM. 

chucked  into  a  creek.  And  I  dare  say  that  it'll  make 
no  material  difference  whether  the  dolphins  gobble 
him  or  the  catfish  and  eels  nibble  him  up.  It's  all 
the  same  in  the  long  run.  Mention  this  to  your 
murderer  when  you  speak  to  him,  will  you  ?  Now, 
I'll  show  you  why  this  thing  takes  all  the  heart  out 
of  me.  In  his  poem  entitled  "  Longings "  he  uses 
this  language : 

"  Oh,  sing  to  me,  darling,  a  sweet  song  to-night, 

While  I  bask  in  the  smile  of  thine  eyes, 
While  I  kiss  those  dear  lips  in  the  dark  silent  room, 
And  whisper  my  saddening  good-byes." 

Now,  you  see  how  it  is  yourself,  Grady,  don't  you  ? 
How  is  she  going  to  sing  to  him  while  he  kisses 
those  lips,  and  how  is  he  going  to  whisper  good 
bye  ?  Isn't  that  awful  slush  ?  Now,  isn't  it  ?  And 
then,  if  the  room  is  dark,  what  I  want  to  know  is 
how  he's  going  to  tell  whether  her  eyes  are  smiling 
or  not  ?  Mr.  Grady,  either  the  man  is  insane  or  I 
am  ;  and  if  your  butcher  is  going  to  stab  Markley, 
you'll  oblige  me  by  telling  him  that  I  want  him  to 
jab  him  deep,  and  maybe  fill  him  up  with  poison  or 
something  to  make  it  absolutely  certain. 

" '  I  know  that  when  he  sent  me  that  poem  about 
"  The  Unknown  "  I  parsed  it,  and  examined  it  with  a 
microscope,  and  sent  it  around  to  a  chemist's  to  be 
analyzed,  but  hang  me  if  I  know  yet  what  he's  driv 
ing  at  when  he  says, 

"  The  uffish  spectral  gleaming  of  that  wild  resounding  clang 
Came  hooting  o'er  the  margin  of  the  dusky  moors  that  hang 


A  PERSECUTED   JOURNALIST.  307 

Like  palls  of  inky  darkness  where  the  hoarse,  weird  raven  calls, 
And  the  bhang-drunk  Hindoo  staggers  on  and  on  until  he  falls." 

Isn't  that —  Well,  now,  isn't  that  just  the  most  fearful 
mess  of  stuff  that  was  ever  ground  out  of  a  lunatie 
asylum  ?' 

" '  It's  the  awfullest  I  ever  saw.' 

"  '  Well,  then,  I  get  eighteen  of  them  a  week,  and 
they  madden  me.  They  keep  my  brain  in  a  frenzied 
whirl.  Grady,  this  man  must  die.  Self-preservation 
is  the  first  law  of  nature.  I  have  a  wife  and  chil 
dren  ;  I  conduct  a  great  paper ;  I  educate  the  public 
mind.  My  life  is  valuable  to  my  country.  Destroy 
this  poet,  and  future  generations  will  praise  your 
name.  He  must  be  wiped  out,  exterminated,  ob 
literated  from  the  face  of  the  earth.  Kill  him  dead 
and  bury  him  deep,  and  fix  him  in  so's  he  will  stay 
down,  and  bring  in  the  bill  for  the  tombstone.  I 
leave  the  case  to  you.  You  need  not  tell  me  you 
have  done  this  job.  When  the  poems  cease  to  come 
to  me,  I  will  know  that  he  is  dead.  That  will  settle 
it.  Good-morning.' " 

It  is  believed  that  the  poet  must  have  been 
warned  by  Grady,  for  the  supplies  suddenly  ceased ; 
and  Markley  is  saving  up  his  effusions  for  some 
other  victim. 

But  the  major  has  other  persecutors.  One  of 
them  came  into  the  editorial-room  of  the  Patriot 
during  one  of  those  very  hot  days  in  June.  Major 
Slott  was  perspiring  in  an  effort  to  hammer  out  an 


308  ELBOW-ROOM. 

article  on  "  The  Necessity  for  Speedy  Resumption." 
The  visitor  seized  a  chair  and  nudged  up  close  to  the 
major.  Then  he  said, 

"  My  name  is  Partridge.  I  called  to  show  you  a 
little  invention  of  mine." 

"  Haven't  got  time  to  look  at  it.     I'm  busy." 

"  I  see  you  are.  Won't  keep  you  more'n  a  min 
ute  "  (removing  his  hat).  "  Look  at  that  hat  and 
tell  me  how  it  strikes  you." 

"  Oh,  don't  bother  me !  I'm  not  interested  in  hats 
just  now." 

"  I  know  you  ain't,  and  that's  not  a  hat.  That's 
Partridge's  Patent  Atmospheric  Refresher.  Looks 
exactly  like  a  high  hat,  don't  it  ?  Now,  what's  the 
thing  you  want  most  this  kind  of  weather  ?" 

"  The  thing  I  want  most  is  to  have  you  skip  out 
pf  here." 

"  What  everybody  wants  is  to  keep  cool,  of  course. 
Now,  how  are  you  going  to  do  it  ?  Why,  if  you 
know  when  you  are  well  off,  you  will  do  it  with  this 
hat.  But  how  ?  I  will  explain.  If  you  compress 
air  until  it  attains  a  considerable  pressure,  and  then 
suddenly  release  it,  the  rapid  expansion  causes  the 
air  to  absorb  heat  and  to  produce  quite  a  marked 
degree  of  cold.  You  know  this,  of  course  ?" 

"  I  wish  you'd  compress  your  air,  and  then  expand 
it  in  the  ears  of  somebody  besides  me." 

"  Now,  in  my  invention  I  have  utilized  this  beauti 
ful  law  of  nature  in  a  manner  that  is  certain  to  con 
fer  an  inestimable  blessing  upon  the  human  race. 


A   PERSECUTED   JOURNALIST.  309 

This  hat  is  really  made  of  light  boiler  iron  covered 
with  silk.  The  compressed  air  is  contained  in  it. 
At  the  present  moment  it  is  subjected  to  a  pressure 
of  eighty-seven  pounds  to  the  square  inch.  If  that 
hat  should  explode  while  I  am  sitting  here,  it  would 
blow  the  roof  off  of  this  building." 

"  So  it  killed  you  I  wouldn't  care." 

"  Well,  sir,  the  way  I  work  this  wonderful  appli 
ance  is  this :  The  air-pump  is  concealed  in  the 
small  of  my  back,  under  my  coat.  A  pipe  connects 
it  with  the  receiver  in  my  hat,  and  there  is  a  kind  of 
crank  running  down  my  right  trouser  leg  and  fast 
ened  to  my  boot,  so  that  the  mere  act  of  walking 
pumps  the  air  into  the  receiver.  But  how  do  I 
effect  the  cooling  process  ?  Listen  :  Another  pipe 
comes  from  the  receiver  and  empties  into  a  kind  of 
a  sheet-iron  undershirt,  perforated  with  holes,  which 
I  wear  beneath  my  outside  shirt — " 

"  If  you'd  wear  something  over  that  shirt,  so  as  to 
hide  the  dirt,  you'd  be  more  agreeable." 

"  Now,  s'posin'  it's  a  warm  day.  I'm  going  along 
the  street  with  the  air-crank  in  operation.  The 
receiver  is  full.  I  want  to  cool  off.  I  pull  the  string 
which  runs  down  my  left  sleeve ;  the  air  rushes  from 
the  receiver,  suddenly  expands  about  my  body,  and 
makes  me  feel  so  cold  that  I  wish  I  had  brought  my 
overcoat  with  me." 

"  I  wish  to  gracious  you'd  go  home  and  get  it  now." 

"  You  see,  then,  that  this  invention  is  of  the  utmost 
value  and  importance,  and  my  idea  in  calling  upon 


3IO  ELBOW-ROOM. 

I 

you  was  to  give  you  a  chance  to  mention  and  de 
scribe  it  in  your  paper,  so  that  the  public  might 
know  about  it.  You  are  the  only  editor  I  have  re 
vealed  the  secret  to.  I  thought  I'd  give  you  the 
first  chance  to  become  a  benefactor  of  your  race." 

"  I'm  the  kind  of  benefactor  that  charges  one  dol 
lar  a  line  for  such  philanthropy." 

"  To  assure  yourself  that  the  machine  is  perfect 
you  must  try  it  for  yourself.  Just  stand  up  and  take 
your  coat  off.  Then  I'll  put  the  hat  on  your  head, 
screw  the  pump  into  the  small  of  your  back  and 
fix  the  other  machinery  down  your  legs." 

"  I'll  see  you  hanged  first." 

"  Well,  then,  I'll  put  it  on  myself  and  illustrate 
the  theory  for  you.  You  see  the  rod  here  in  my 
trousers?  This  is  the  air-pump  here, just  above  my 
suspender  buttons.  The  hat  now  contains  about  six 
atmospheres.  Now  I  am  ready  to  move.  See  ? 
You  observe  how  it  works  ?  The  only  noise  you 
hear  is  a  slight  click  of  the  valve  in  the  pump.  A 
couple  more  turns,  and  you  put  your  hand  on  my 
shirt-collar  and  feel  how  near  zero  it  is.  I  will  get 
the  pressure  up  to  one  hundred  pounds  before  I — " 

BANG ! ! ! 

As  soon  as  the  major  began  to  realize  the  situa 
tion  he  crawled  out  from  beneath  his  overturned 
desk,  wiped  the  contents  of  the  inkstand  from  his 
face  and  hair  with  the  copy  of  that  unfinished  article 
upon  "  The  Necessity  for  Speedy  Resumption,"  and 
looked  about  him.  Mr.  Partridge  was  lying  in  the 


A   PERSECUTED   JOURNALIST.  313 

corner  with  a  splintered  table  over  his  legs,  his  head 
in  a  spittoon,  and  fragments  of  ruined  machinery 
bursting  out  through  enormous  rents  in  his  trousers 
and  his  coat.  His  cast-iron  undershirt  protruded  in 
jagged  points  from  a  dozen  orifices  in  his  waistcoat. 
As  the  major  took  him  by  the  leg  to  haul  him  out 
of  the  debris  Partridge  opened  his  eyes  wearily  and 
said, 

"Awful  clap,  wasn't  it?  You  ought  to've  had 
lightning-rods  on  this  building.  Struck  by  light 
ning,  wasn't  I  ?" 

"  You  intolerable  ass  !"  exclaimed  the  major  as  the 
clerks  and  reporters  came  rushing  in  and  began  to 
place  Partridge  on  his  legs  ;  "  it  wasn't  lightning.  It 
was  that  infernal  machine  that  you  wanted  me  to  put 
on  my  head.  If  it  had  driven  you  under  ground 
about  forty  feet,  I'd  have  been  glad,  even  if  it  had 
al-so  demolished  the  building." 

"  What !  the  receiver  exploded,  did  it  ?  Too  bad, 
ain't  it?  Blamed  if  I  didn't  think  she  was  strong 
enough  to  bear  twice  that  pressure.  I  must  have 
made  a  mistake  in  my  calculations,  however,"  said 
Partridge,  pinning  up  his  clothes  and  holding  his 
handkerchief  to  his  bloody  nose ;  "  I'll  have  another 
one  made,  and  come  around  to  show  you  the  inven 
tion  to  better  advantage." 

"  If  you  do,  I'll  brain  you  with  an  inkstand,"  said 
the  major. 

Then  Partridge  limped  out,  and  the  major,  aban 
doning  the  subject  of  resumption,  began  a  fresh  edi- 


3H  ELBOW-ROOM. 

torial  upon  "  The  Extraordinary  Prevalence  of  Idiots 
at  the  Present  Time." 

The  Patriot  has  shown  a  remarkable  amount  of 
enterprise  lately  in  obtaining,  or  professing  to  ob 
tain,  an  interview  with  the  Wandering  Jew.  The 
reader  can  form  his  own  estimate  of  the  value  of 
the  report,  which  appeared  in  the  Patriot  in  the  fol 
lowing  fashion : 

Reports  were  floating  about  the  city  yesterday  to 
the  effect  that  the  Wandering  Jew  had  been  seen 
over  in  New  Jersey.  A  reporter  was  sent  over  at 
once  to  hunt  him  up,  and  to  interview  him  if  he  should 
be  found.  After  a  somewhat  protracted  search  the 
reporter  discovered  a  promising-looking  person  sit 
ting  on  the  top  rail  of  a  fence  just  outside  of  Camden 
engaged  in  eating  some  crackers  and  cheese.  The 
reporter  approached  him  and  addressed  him  at  a 
venture : 

"  Beautiful  day,  Cantaphilus  !" 

This  familiarity  seemed  necessary ;  because  if  the 
Wandering  Jew  has  any  family  name,  the  fact  has 
not  been  revealed  to  the  public. 

"  Bless  my  soul,  young  man,  how  on  earth  did  you 
know  me  ?"  exclaimed  the  Jew. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know ;  something  about  your  appear 
ance  told  me  who  it  was.  I'm  mighty  glad  to  see 
you,  any  way.  When  did  you  arrive  ?" 

"  I  came  on  here  yesterday.  Been  down  in  Terra 
del  Fuego,  where  I  heard  about  the  Centennial,  and 


A  PERSECUTED   JOURNALIST. 


315 


I  thought  I'd  run  up  and  have  a  look  at  it.  Be  a 
good  thing,  I  reckon.  Time  flies,  though,  don't  it  ? 
Seems  to  me  only  yesterday  that  a  man  over  here  in 
Siberia  told  .me  that  you  people  were  fighting  your 
Revolutionary  war." 

He  sat  upon  the  fence  as  he  talked ;  his  feet,  cased 


in  gum  shoes,  rested  on  the  third  rail  from  the  bot 
tom  ;  his  umbrella  was  under  his  arm ;  his  face  was 
deeply  wrinkled,  and  his  long  white  beard  bobbed 
up  and  down  as  he  ate  his  lunch  voraciously,  diving 
into  his  carpet-bag  every  now  and  then  for  more. 


316  ELBOW-ROOM. 

The  reporter  remarked  that  he  feared  that  such  a 
liberal  diet  of  cheese  would  disagree  with  the  eater, 
but  the  old  man  said, 

"  Why,  my  goodness,  sonny,  I've  been  hunting  all 
over  the  earth  for  seventeen  centuries  for  something 
to  disagree  with  me.  That's  what  I  yearn  for.  If 
I  could  only  get  dyspepsia  once,  I  might  hope  to 
wear  myself  out.  But  it's  no  use.  I  could  lunch 
on  a  pound  of  nails  and  feel  as  comfortable  as  a  baby 
after  a  bottle  of  milk.  That's  one  of  my  peculiar 
ities.  You  know  nothing  ever  hurts  me.  Why, 
I've  been  thrown  out  of  volcanoes — lemme  see :  well, 
dozens  of  times — and  never  been  singed  a  bit.  'Most 
always,  in  real  cold  weather,  I  step  over  to  Italy  and 
roost  around  inside  of  Vesuvius;  and  then,  maybe, 
there's  an  eruption,  and  I'm  heaved  out  a  couple  of 
hundred  miles  or  so,  but  always  safe  and  sound. 
What  I  don't  know  about  volcanic  eruptions,  my 
child,  isn't  worth  knowing.  I  went  sailing  around 
through  the  air  when  Pompeii  was  destroyed.  Yes, 
sir,  I  was  there ;  saw  the  whole  thing.  Why,  I  could 
tell  you  the  most  wonderful  stories.  You  wouldn't 
believe." 

"  How  do  you  travel  generally  ?" 

"  Oh,  different  ways.  I  have  gone  around  some 
in  sleeping-cars,  and  had  my  baggage  checked 
through  ;  but  generally  I  prefer  to  walk.  I'm  never 
in  a  hurry,  and  I  like  to  take  my  own  route.  I'm  a 
mighty  good  walker.  I  did  think  of  getting  up  some 
kind  of  a  pedestrian  match  with  some  of  your  cham- 


A  PERSECUTED  JOURNALIST.  317 

pion  walkers,  but  it's  no  use;    it'd  only  create  an 
excitement." 

"  How  do  people  treat  you  usually  ?" 
"  Well,  I  can't  complain.  Snap  me  up  for  a  tramp 
sometimes,  or  make  disagreeable  remarks  about  me. 
But  generally  I  get  along  well  enough.  The  under 
takers  are  hardest  on  me.  They  say  I  exercise  a 
depressing  influence  on  their  business  by  setting  a 
bad  example  to  other  people ;  and  one  of  'em,  over 
in  Constantinople,  he  said  a  man  who'd  defrauded 
about  fifty-four  generations  of  undertakers  ought  to 
be  ashamed  to  show  his  face  in  civilized  society. 
But  bless  you,  sonny,  I  don't  mind  them.  Business, 
you  know,  is  business.  It's  perfectly  natural  for  them 
to  feel  that  way  about  it ;  now,  isn't  it  ?" 
"  Will  you  have  a  cigar,  after  eating  ?" 
"  No ;  none  for  me.  Raleigh  wanted  me  to  learn 
to  smoke  when  he  was  in  Virginia,  but  I  didn't  care 
for  it.  You  remember  him,  of  course  ?  Oh  no ;  I 
forgot  how  young  you  are.  Pleasant  man,  but  a 
little  too  chimerical.  I  liked  Columbus  better. 
Nero  was  a  man  who'd  Ve  suited  you  newspaper 
people.  'Most  always  a  murder  every  day.  And 
then  that  fire  in  Rome  when  he  fiddled;  made  a 
splendid  report  for  the  papers,  wouldn't  it?  Poor 
sort  of  a  man,  though.  The  only  time  I  ever  saw 
him  was  when  he  was  drowning  his  mother.  Dropped 
the  old  lady  over  and  let  her  drift  off  as  if  he  didn't 
care  a  cent." 

"  Talking  of  newspapers,  how  would  you  like  to 


318  ELBOW-ROOM. 

make  an  engagement  as  the  traveling  correspondent 
of  fixe  Patriot?" 

"  Well,  I  dunno.  I  wouldn't  mind  sending  you  a 
letter  now  and  then,  but  I  don't  care  to  make  any 
regular  engagement.  You  see  I  haven't  written  a 
great  deal  for  about  eighteen  hundred  years,  and  a 
man  kind  of  gets  out  of  practice  in  that  time.  I 
write  such  an  awful  poor  hand,  too.  No ;  I  guess  I 
won't  contribute  regularly.  I  have  thought  some 
times  maybe  I  might  do  a  little  work  as  a  book- 
agent,  so's  to  pick  up  a  few  stray  dollars.  But  I 
never  had  a  fair  chance  offered  to  me,  and  I  didn't 
care  enough  about  it  to  hunt  it  up;  and  so  nothing 
ever  came  of  it.  I  could  make  a  good  book  fairly 
hum  around  this  globe,  though,  don't  you  think  ?" 

"  Were  you  ever  married  ?  Did  you  ever  have  a 
wife  ?" 

"  See  here,  my  son,  I  never  did  you  any  harm, 
and  what's  the  use  of  your  bringing  up  such  disagree 
able  reminiscences  ?  The  old  lady  died  in  Egypt  in 
73.  They  made  her  up  into  a  mummy,  and  I  reckon 
they  put  a  pyramid  on  her  to  hold  her  down.  That's 
enough  ;  that  satisfies  me." 

"  Is  your  memory  generally  good  ?" 

"Well,  about  fair;  that's  all.  I  know  I  used  to 
get  Petrarch  mixed  up  in  my  mind  with  St.  Peter, 
and  I've  several  times  alluded  to  Plutarch  as  the  god 
of  the  infernal  regions.  I'm  often  hazy  about  people. 
The  queerest  thing !  You  know  that  once,  in  conver 
sation  with  Benjamin  Franklin,  I  confounded  Mark 


A   PERSECUTED   JOURNALIST.  319 

Antony  with  Saint  Anthony,  and  actually  alluded  to 
the  saint's  oration  over  the  dead  body  of  Csesar. 
Positive  fact.  I'll  tell  you  how  I  often  keep  the  run 
of  things :  I  say  of  a  certain  event,  '  That  happened 
during  the  century  that  I  was  bilious,'  or,  '  It  occur 
red  in  the  century  when  I  had  rheumatism.'  That's 
the  way  I  fix  the  time.  I  did  commence  to  keep  a 
diary  back  in  134,  but  I  ran  up  a  stack  of  manuscript 
three  or  four  hundred  feet  high,  and  then  I  gave  it 
up.  Couldn't  lug  it  round  with  me,  you  know." 

"  I  suppose  you  have  known  a  great  many  cele 
brated  people  ?" 

*'  Plenty  of  'em — plenty  of  'em,  sir.  By  the  way, 
did  anybody  ever  tell  you  that  you  looked  like  Mo 
hammed  ?  Well,  sir,  you  do.  Astonishing  likeness  ! 
Now,  there  was  an  old  scalawag  for  you.  A  perfect 
fraud !  I  lent  that  man  a  pair  of  boots  in  598,  and 
he  never  returned  them ;  said  I'd  get  my  reward 
hereafter.  I've  regretted  those  boots  for  nearly 
thirteen  hundred  years." 

"  Did  it  ever  occur  to  you  to  lecture  ?" 

"  Oh  yes ;  I've  turned  it  over  in  my  mind.  But  I 
guess  I  won't.  You  see,  my  son,  I'm  so  crammed 
full  of  information  that  if  I  began  a  discourse  I  could 
hardly  stop  under  a  couple  of  years;  and  that's  too 
long  for  a  lecture,  you  know.  Then  they  might 
encore  it;  and  so  I  hardly  think  I'd  better  go  in. 
No,  I'll  just  trudge  along  in  the  old  fashion." 

"  Have  you  any  views  about  the  questions  of  the 
day  ?  Are  you  in  favor  of  soft  money  or  hard  ?" 


320  ELBOW-ROOM. 

"  Young  man,  the  advice  to  you  of  a  man  who  has 
studied  the  world  for  nearly  two  thousand  years  is 
to  take  any  kind  you  can  get.  That's  solid  wisdom." 

Then,  as  the  old  man  babbled  on,  he  descended 
from  the  fence,  shouldered  his  umbrella,  and  together 
the  two  started  for  the  ferry.  He  said  he  wanted  to 
buy  a  new  suit  of  clothes.  That  he  had  on  he  had 
bought  in  1807  in  Germany,  and  it  was  beginning  to 
get  threadbare.  So  the  reporter  led  him  over  the 
river,  put  him  in  a  horse-car,  asked  him  to  send  his 
address  to  the  office,  and  the  aged  pilgrim  nudged 
up  into  a  corner  seat,  put  his  valise  on  the  floor  and 
sailed  serenely  out  of  sight  amid  the  reverberation 
of  the  oaths  hurled  by  the  driver  at  an  Irish  dray 
man  who  occupied  the  track  in  front  of  the  car. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

THE  ACHIEVEMENTS  OF  DR.  PERKINS. 

|T  might  be  hardly  fair  to  say  that  Doctor 
Perkins,  a  former  resident  of  the  village, 
was  a  quack;  he  may  be  described  in 
milder  phrase  as  an  irregular  practitioner. 
He  belonged  to  none  of  the  accepted  schools,  but 
treated  his  patients  in  accordance  with  certain 
theories  of  his  own.  The  doctor  had  a  habit  of 
relating  remarkable  stories  of  his  own  achievements, 
and  the  most  wonderful  of  these  was  his  account  of 
an  attempt  that  he  once  made  to  cure  a  man  named 
Simpson  of  consumption  by  the  process  of  transfu 
sion  of  blood.  The  doctor,  according  to  his  own 
story,  determined  to  inject  healthy  blood  into  Simp 
son's  veins. 

As  no  human  being  was  willing  to  shed  his  blood 
for  Simpson,  the  doctor  bled  Simpson's  goat ;  and 
opening  a  vein  in  Simpson's  arm,  he  injected  about 
two  quarts  of  the  blood  into  the  patient's  system. 
Simpson  immediately  began  to  revive,  but,  singular 
to  relate,  no  sooner  had  his  strength  returned  than 
he  jumped  out  of  bed  ;  and  twitching  his  head  about 
after  the  fashion  of  a  goat,  he  made  a  savage  attempt 

21  321 


322 


ELBOW-ROOM. 


to  butt  the  doctor.  That  medical  gentleman,  after 
having  Simpson's  head  plunged  against  his  stomach 
three  or  four  times,  took  refuge  in  the  closet ;  where 
upon  Simpson  banged  his  head  against  the  panel  of 
the  door  a  couple  of  times,  and  would  probably  have 


broken  it  to  splinters  had  not  his  mother-in-law  en 
tered  at  that  moment  and  diverted  his  attention.  One 
well-directed  blow  from  Simpson  floored  her,  and 
then,  while  she  screamed  for  help,  Simpson  frolicked 
around  over  the  floor,  making  assiduous  efforts  to 


THE  ACHIEVEMENTS   OF  DR.  PERKINS.      323 

nibble  the  green  flowers  in  the  ingrain  carpet.  When 
they  called  the  hired  man  in  and  tied  him  down  on 
the  bed,  an  effort  was  made  to  interview  him,  but  the 
only  answer  he  could  give  to  such  questions  as  how 
he  felt  and  when  he  wanted  his  medicine  was  a 
"  ba-a"  precisely  like  that  of  a  goat,  and  then  he  would 
strain  himself  in  an  effort  to  butt  a  hole  in  the  head 
board.  The  condition  of  the  patient  was  so  alarm 
ing,  and  Mrs.  Simpson  was  so  indignant,  that  Dr. 
Perkins  determined  to  undo  the  evil  if  possible.  So 
he  first  bled  Simpson  freely,  and  then,  by  heavily 
bribing  Simpson's  Irishman,  he  procured  fresh  blood 
from  him,  and  injected  Simpson  the  second  time. 
Simpson  recovered,  but  he  shocked  his  old  Republican 
friends  by  displaying  an  irresistible  tendency  to  vote 
the  Democratic  ticket,  and  made  his  mother-in-law 
mad  by  speaking  with  a  strong  brogue.  He  gradu 
ally  gave  up  butting,  and  never  indulged  in  it  in  a 
jerious  manner  but  once,  and  that  was  on  a  certain 
.Sunday,  when,  one  of  the  remaining  corpuscles  of 
goat's  blood  getting  into  his  brain  just  as  he  was 
going  into  church,  he  butted  the  sexton  halfway  up 
the  aisle,  and  only  recovered  himself  sufficiently  to 
apologize  just  as  the  enraged  official  was  about  to 
floor  him  with  a  hymn-book. 

But  the  doctor  did  not  succeed  with  private  prac 
tice  in  Millburg,  and  so  one  day  he  made  up  his  mind 
to  try  to  get  out  of  poverty  by  inventing  a  patent 
medicine.  After  some  reflection  he  concluded  that 
the  two  most  frequent  and  most  unpopular  forms  of 


324  ELBOW-ROOM. 

infirmity  were  baldness  of  head  and  torpidity  of  the 
liver,  and  he  selected  compounds  recommended  by 
the  pharmacopoeia  as  the  remedies  which  he  would 
sell  to  the  public.  One  he  called  "  Perkins'  Hair 
Vigor,"  and  the  other  "  Perkins'  Liver  Regulator." 
Procuring  a  large  number  of  fancy  bottles  and  gaudy 
labels,  he  bottled  the  medicines  and  advertised  them 
extensively,  with  certificates  of  imaginary  cures, 
which  were  written  out  for  him  by  a  friend  whose 
liver  was  active  and  whose  hair  was  abundant. 

It  is  not  at  all  unlikely  that  Perkins  would  have 
achieved  success  with  his  enterprise  but  for  one  un 
fortunate  circumstance:  he  was  totally  unfamiliar 
with  the  preparations,  excepting  in  so  far  as  the 
pharmacopoeia  instructed  him ;  and  as  ill-luck  would 
have  it,  in  putting  them  up  he  got  the  labels  of  the 
liver  regulator  on  the  hair  vigor  bottles,  and  the 
labels  of  the  latter  on  the  bottles  containing  the 
former.  Of  course  the  results  were  appalling ;  and 
as  Doctor  Perkins  had  requested  the  afflicted  to  in 
form  him  of  the  benefits  derived  from  applying  the 
remedies,  he  had  not  sold  more  than  a  few  hundred 
bottles  before  he  began  to  hear  from  the  purchasers. 

One  day,  as  he  was  coming  out  of  his  office,  he 
observed  a  man  sitting  on  the  fire-plug  with  a  shot 
gun  in  his  hand  and  thunder  upon  his  brow.  The 
man  was  bare-headed,  and  his  scalp  was  covered 
with  a  shiny  substance  of  some  kind.  When  he 
saw  Perkins,  he  emptied  one  load  of  bird-shot  into 
the  inventor's  legs,  and  he  was  about  to  give  him 


THE  ACHIEVEMENTS   OF  DR.   PERKINS.     325 

the  contents  of  the  other  barrel,  when  Perkins  hob 
bled  into  the  office  and  shut  the  door.  The  man 
pursued  him  and  tried  to  break  in  the  door  with  the 
butt  of  the  gun.  He  failed,  and  Perkins  asked  him 
what  he  meant  by  such  murderous  conduct. 

"  You  come  out  here,  and  I'll  show  you  what  I 
mean,  you  scoundrel !"  said  the  man.  "  You  step 
out  here  for  a  minute,  and  I'll  blow  the  head  off  of 
you  for  selling  me  hair  vigor  that  has  gummed  my 
head  up  so  that  I  can't  wear  a  hat  and  can't  sleep 
without  sticking  to  the  pillow-case.  Turned  my 
scalp  all  green  and  pink,  too.  You  put  your  head 
out  of  that  door,  and  I'll  give  you  more  vigor  than 
you  want,  you  idiot !  I  expect  that  stuff  11  soak  in 
and  kill  me." 

Then  the  man  took  his  seat  again  on  the  fire-plug, 
and  after  reloading  the  barrel  of  his  gun  put  on  a 
fresh  cap  and  waited.  Perkins  remained  inside  and 
sent  a  boy  out  the  back  way  for  the  mail.  The  first 
letter  he  opened  was  from  a  woman,  who  wrote : 

"  My  husband  took  one  dose  of  your  liver  regu 
lator  and  immediately  went  into  spasms.  He  has 
had  fits  every  hour  for  four  days.  As  soon  as  he 
dies  I  am  coming  on  to  kill  the  fiend  who  poisoned 
him." 

A  clergyman  in  Delaware  wrote  to  ask  what  were 
the  ingredients  of  the  liver  regulator.  He  feared 
something  was  wrong,  because  his  aunt  had  taken 
the  medicine  only  twice,  when  she  began  to  roll  over 
on  the  floor  and  howl  in  the  most  alarming  manner, 


326  ELBOW-ROOM. 

and  she  had  been  in  a  comatose  condition  for  fifteen 
hours. 

A  man  named  Johnson  dropped  a  line  to  say  that 
after  applying  the  hair  vigor  to  his  scalp  he  had 
leaned  his  head  against  the  back  of  a  chair,  and  it 
had  now  been  in  that  position  two  days.  He  feared 
he  would  never  be  released  unless  he  cut  up  the 
chair  and  wore  the  piece  permanently  on  his  head. 
He  was  coming  to  see  Perkins  in  reference  to  the 
matter  when  he  got  loose,  and  he  was  going  to  bring 
his  dog  with  him. 

A  Mr.  Wilson  said  that  his  boy  had  put  some  of 
the  vigor  on  his  face  in  order  to  induce  the  growth 
of  a  moustache,  and  that  at  the  present  moment  the 
boy's  upper  lip  was  glued  fast  to  the  tip  of  his  nose 
and  his  countenance  looked  as  if  it  had  been  coated 
with  green  varnish. 

There  were  about  forty  other  letters,  giving  the 
details  of  sundry  other  cases  of  awful  suffering  and 
breathing  threatenings  and  slaughter  against  Mr. 
Perkins.  Just  as  Mr.  Perkins  was  finishing  these 
epistles  a  friend  of  his  came  rushing  in  through  the 
back  door  breathless,  and  exclaimed, 

"  By  George,  Aleck,  you  better  get  over  the  fence 
and  leave  town  as  quick  as  you  can.  There's  thun 
der  to  pay  about  those  patent  medicines  of  yours. 
Old  Mrs.  Gridley's  just  gone  up  on  that  liver  regu 
lator,  after  being  in  convulsions  for  a  week.  Thomp 
son's  hired  girl  is  lying  at  the  last  gasp,  four  of 
the  Browns  have  got  the  awfulest-looking  heads 


THE  ACHIEVEMENTS   OF  DR.   PERKINS.     327 

you  ever  saw  from  the  hair  vigor,  and  about  a  dozen 
other  people  are  up  at  the  sheriff's  office  taking  out 
warrants  for  your  arrest.  The  people  are  talking  of 
mobbing  you,  and  the  crowd  out  here  on  the  pave 
ment  are  cheering  a  green-headed  man  with  a  gun 
who  says  he's  going  to  bang  the  head  off  of  you. 
Now,  you  take  my  advice  and  skip.  It'll  be  sudden 
death  to  stay  here.  Leave  !  that's  your  only  chance." 
Then  Doctor  Perkins  got  over  the  fence  and  ran 
for  the  early  train,  and  an  hour  later  the  mob  gutted 
his  office  and  smashed  the  entire  stock  of  remedies. 
Perkins  is  in  Canada  now,  working  in  a  saw-mill. 
He  is  convinced  that  there  is  no  money  for  him  in 
the  business  of  relieving  human  suffering. 


CHAPTER    XXVII. 

GENERAL   TRUMPS  OF  THE  MILITIA. 

|HE  principal  warrior  in  our  community  is 
General  Trumps,  the  commander  of  the 
militia  of  the  district.  The  general  has 
seen  service  in  the  South  and  West,  and  is 
a  pretty  good  soldier.  In  these  happy  days  of  peace, 
however,  he  does  not  often  have  an  opportunity  to 
display  his  fighting  qualities,  but  sometimes  even 
now,  when  he  is  provoked  to  wrath,  he  becomes 
bloodthirsty  and  ferocious.  Last  summer  the  gen 
eral  went  to  Cape  May.  Previous  to  his  arrival  two 
young  men,  whom  I  will  call  Brown  and  Jones, 
occupied  adjoining  rooms  at  a  certain  hotel.  One 
day  Brown  fixed  a  string  to  the  covers  on  Jones'  bed 
and  ran  the  cord  through  the  door  into  his  own  room. 
His  purpose  was  to  pull  the  covers  off  as  soon  as 
Jones  got  comfortably  fixed  for  the  night.  But  that 
afternoon  General  Trumps  came  down ;  and  as  the 
hotel  was  crowded,  the  landlord  put  Jones  in  the 
room  with  Brown  and  gave  Jones'  apartment  to  the 
general.  Brown  forgot  about  the  string,  and  he  and 
Jones  went  to  bed.  About  midnight  Jones'  dog, 
while  prowling  around  the  room,  got  the  string 

328 


GENERAL    TRUMPS   OF  THE  MILITIA.       329 

tangled  about  his  leg,  and  in  struggling  to  reach  the 
window  he  slowly  dragged  the  bed-clothes  off  of 
the  soldier,  next  door.  That  gentleman  awoke,  and 
after  scolding  his  wife  for  removing  the  blankets 
went  to  sleep  again.  Presently  Jones'  dog  saw  a  rat 
and  darted  after  it.  Off  came  the  covers  again. 
Then  the  man  of  war  was  angry.  He  roused  his  wife 
and  scolded  her  vigorously.  She  protested  her  inno 
cence,  and  while  she  was  speaking  Jones'  dog  heard 
another  dog  outside,  and  hurried  to  the  window  to 
bark.  The  covers  were  again  removed.  Then  the 
general  fumbled  about  until  he  found  the  cord. 
Then  he  loaded  up  his  revolver,  drew  his  sword 
and  dared  Jones  and  Brown  to  open  their  door  and 
come  out  into  the  entry.  They  peeped  at  him  over 
the  transom,  observed  his  warlike  preparations, 
glanced  at  the  string  and  the  dog,  packed  their  car 
pet-bags,  slid  down  the  water-spout  outside,  and  went 
home  in  the  five-o'clock  train.  The  manner  in  which 
that  battle-scarred  veteran  roared  around  the  hotel 
during  the  day  was  said  to  have  been  frightful ;  and 
when  rumors  came  that  Brown  and  Jones  had  gone 
to  another  place  in  the  neighborhood,  he  spent  the 
day  hunting  for  them  with  a  purpose  to  commit 
violence.  He  gradually  became  calmer,  and  as  his 
anger  subsided  the  humorous  aspect  of  the  matter 
appeared,  and  he  felt  rather  glad  that  he  had  not 
encountered  the  two  young  men. 

Several  years  ago  the  general  was  out  upon  the 
plains  fighting  the  Indians.     One  of  the  men  who 


330 


ELBOW-ROOM. 


accompanied  his  command  was  a  Major  Bing.  It 
happened  that  the  major  was  captured  by  the  savages, 
and  it  devolved  upon  the  general  to  bear  the  melan 
choly  tidings  to  Mrs.  Bing.  It  appears  that  while  the 
general  was  on  his  way  home  Mrs.  Bing  moved  into 
another  house ;  and  when  the  general  returned  with 
the  sad  intelligence,  he  did  not  know  of  the  fact,  but 
went  to  the  old  house,  which  was  now  occupied  by 
Mrs.  Wood.  He  told  the  servant-girl  to  tell  her 
mistress  to  come  into  the  parlor,  and  then  he  took  a 
seat  on  the  sofa  and  thought  how  he  could  break  the 
news  of  the  major's  death  to  her  so  as  not  to  give 


GENERAL    TRUMPS   OF   THE  MILITIA.        331 

her  too  violent  a  shock.  When  Mrs.  Wood  entered, 
the  general  greeted  her  mournfully ;  and  when  they 
had  taken  seats,  the  following  conversation  ensued : 

"  Madam,  I  have  been  the  major's  friend  ever  since 
our  childhood.  I  .played  with  him  when  we  were4* 
boys  together.  I  grew  up  to  manhood  with  him  ;  I 
watched  with  pride  his  noble  and  successful  career ; 
I  rejoiced  when  he  married  the  lovely  woman  before 
me ;  and  I  went  to  the  West  with  him.  Need  I  tell 
you  that  I  loved  him  ?  I  loved  him  only  less  than 
you  did." 

"  I  don't  understand  you,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Wood. 
"  Whom  are  you  referring  to  ?" 

"Why,  to  the  major.  I  say  that  your  love  for 
him  alone  was  greater  than  mine ;  and  I  am — " 

"  Your  remarks  are  a  mystery  to  me.  I  have  no 
attachment  of  that  kind." 

"  Call  it  what  you  will,  madam.  I  know  how 
strong  the  tie  was  between  you — ho\v  deep  the  devo 
tion  which  kept  two  loving  souls  in  perfect  unison. 
And  knowing  this,  of  course  I  feel  deeply  that  to 
wound  either  heart  by  telling  of  misfortune  to  the 
other  is  a  task  from  which  a  man  like  me  might  very 
properly  shrink.  But  I  have  a  duty  to  perform — a 
solemn  duty.  What  would  you  say,  my  dear  madam, 
if  I  should  tell  you  that  the  major  had  lost  a  leg  ? 
What  would  you  say  to  that  ?" 

"  I  don't  know.  If  I  knew  a  major  who  had  lost 
a  leg,  I  should  probably  advise  him  to  buy  a  wooden 
one." 


332  ELBOW-ROOM. 

"  Light-hearted  as  ever,"  said  the  general.  "  Just 
as  he  told  me  you  were.  Poor  woman !  you  will 
need  your  buoyant  spirits  yet.  But,  dear  madam, 
suppose  the  major  had  lost  not  only  one  leg,  but 
two ;  both  gone  ;  no  legs  at  all ;  not  a  pin  to  stand 
on ;  now,  how  would  that  strike  you  ?" 

"  Really,  sir,  this  is  getting  to  be  absurd.  I  don't 
care  whether  your  major  has  as  many  legs  as  a  cen 
tipede  or  none  at  all.  If  you  have  any  business  with 
me,  please  transact  it  as  quickly  as  possible." 

"  Madam,  this  is  too  serious  a  subject  for  jest. 
The  major  has  lost  not  only  his  legs,  but  his  arms. 
He  is  absolutely  without  limbs  of  any  kind  at  this 
moment.  That's  as  true  as  I'm  sitting  here.  Now, 
don't  scream,  please." 

"  I  haven't  the  slightest  idea  of  screaming." 

"  Well,  you  take  it  mighty  cool,  I  must  say.  But 
that's  not  the  worst  of  it.  All  his  ribs  are  gone,  his 
nose  has  departed,  and  he  only  has  one  eye  and  a 
part  of  one  shoulder-blade.  I  pledge  you  my  word 
that's  the  truth.  I  hardly  think  he  will  recover." 

"  I  shouldn't  think  he  would,  in  that  condition  ; 
but,  upon  my  life,  I  cannot  see  that  the  fact  interests 
me  at  all." 

"  Not  interest  you  !  Well,  that  is  amazing  !  Not 
int —  Why,  my  goodness,  woman,  that's  not  half 
of  it.  The  major's  scalp's  all  gone;  he  hasn't 
enough  fuzz  on  his  head  to  make  a  camel's-hair 
pencil ;  he  has  a  stake  through  his  body,  and  he's 
been  burnt  until  he  is  all  doubled  up  in  a  hard  knot ; 


GENERAL    TRUMPS   OF  THE   MILITIA.       333 

and,  in  my  private  opinion,  it's  mighty  unlikely  he'll 
ever  be  untied  and  straightened  out  again.  If  that 
doesn't  fetch  you,  you  must  have  a  heart  of  stone." 

"  I  don't  care  anything  about  it,  sir.  It's  none  of 
my  business." 

"  Well,  then,  as  long  as  you're  so  indifferent,  let 
me  tell  you,  plump  and  plain,  that  the  major's  dead  as 
Julius  Caesar!  The  Indians  killed  him,  burnt  him  and 
minced  him  up !  Now,  that's  the  solemn  truth,  and 
his  last  words  to  me  were,  '  Break  the  news  gently 
to  Maria.'  You  see  the  man  loved  you.  He  cared 
more  for  you  than  you  seemed  to  do  for  him.  He 
would  have  welcomed  death  if  he  had  known  you 
had  ceased  to  love  him." 

"  What  did  you  say  his  last  words  were  ?" 

"  Why,  just  before  his  soul  took  its  eternal  flight 
he  whispered  something  in  my  ear.  Then  I  made  a 
sudden  dash  and  escaped  from  the  savages,  to  bring 
his  message  back  to  you.  That  message  was : 
*  Break  the  news  gently  to  Maria.'  That's  what  the 
major  said  with  his  dying  lips." 

"  Well,  then,  why  don't  you  break  the  news  to 
Maria?" 

"  Madam,  such  levity  is  untimely.  I  have  broken 
it — broken  it  gently.  You  have  heard  it  all." 

"  Do  you  suppose  I  am  Major  Bing's  wife  ?" 

"  Certainly." 

"  Well,  she  moved  around  into  Market  street  last 
December.  Maybe  you'd  better  hunt  her  up." 

The  general  looked  at  Mrs.  Wood  solemnly  for  a 


334  ELBOW-ROOM. 

minute,  and  then  he  said  he  would.  Then  he  bade 
Mrs.  Wood  good"morning,  bowed  himself  out  and 
walked  around  to  look  for  the  widow.  When  the  real 
widow  heard  the  news,  she  was  deeply  affected,  and 
she  sobbed  in  a  most  distressing  manner.  Subse 
quently  she  went  into  mourning.  The  life  insurance 
company  paid  her  the  money  due  upon  the  major's 
policy.  The  major's  lodge  passed  resolutions  of 
regret,  his  family  divided  up  his  property,  and  the 
community  settled  down  comfortably  in  the  con 
viction  that  the  major  was  finally  and  hopelessly 
dead. 

About  a  year  afterward,  however,  Major  Bing  sud 
denly  arrived  in  town  without  announcing  his  com 
ing.  He  had  been  held  as  a  prisoner  by  the  Indians, 
and  had  escaped.  As  he  stepped  from  the  cars  a 
policeman  looked  at  him  a  minute,  then  seized  him 
by  the  collar  and  hurried  him  around  to  the  coroner's 
office.  Before  he  could  recover  from  his  amazement 
the  coroner  empaneled  a  jury,  put  the  action  of  the 
insurance  company  in  evidence  and  promptly  got 
from  the  jury  a  verdict  that  "  the  said  Bing  came  to 
his  death  at  the  hands  of  the  Indians." 

Then  the  major  went  to  his  house  and  found  his 
widow  sitting  on  the  front  porch  talking  to  Myers, 
the  man  to  whom  she  was  engaged  to  be  married. 
As  he  entered  the  gate  his  widow  gave  one  little 
start  of  surprise,  and  then,  regaining  her  composure, 
she  said  to  Myers, 

"  Isn't  this  a  new  kind  of  an  idea — dead  people 


GENERAL    TRUMPS   OF  THE  MILITIA.       335 

coming  around  when  common  decency  requires  them 
to  keep  quiet  ?" 

"  It's  altogether  wrong,"  said  Myers.  "  If  I  was 
dead,  I'd  lie  still  and  quit  wandering  about  over  the 
face  of  the  earth." 

"Maria,  don't  you  know  me?"  asked  the  major, 
indignantly. 

"  I  used  to  know  you  when  you  were  alive ;  but 
now  that  you're  gone,  I  don't  expect  to  recognize 
you  until  we  meet  in  a  better  world." 

"  But,  Maria,  I  am  not  dead.  You  certainly  see 
that  I  am  alive." 

"  Not  dead !  Didn't  you  send  word  to  me  that 
you  were  ?  Am  I  to  refuse  to  believe  my  own  hus 
band  ?  The  life  insurance  company  says  you  are  de 
ceased  ;  the  lodge  says  so ;  the  coroner  officially 
asserts  the  fact.  What  am  I  to  do  ?  The  evidence 
is  all  one  way." 

"  But  you  shall  accept  me  as  alive !"  shouted  the 
major,  in  a  rage. 

"  Mr.  Myers,"  said  the  widow,  calmly,  "  hadn't  we 
better  send  for  the  undertaker  to  come  and  bury 
these  remains  ?" 

"  Look  here  !"  said  Myers.  "  I'm  the  last  man  to 
do  a  dead  friend  an  injury,  but  I  ain't  going  to  have 
any  departed  spirit  coming  in  here  and  giving  this 
lady  hysterics.  You  pack  up  and  go  back,  and  stay 
there,  or  I'll  have  you  hustled  into  a  tomb  quicker'n 
lightning.  Hurry  up  now;  don't  stop  to  think 
about  it!" 


ELBOW-ROOM. 

"  This  beats  the  very  old  Harry !"  said  the  major, 
in  astonishment. 

"  No  answering  back,  now,"  said  Myers.  "  When 
I  want  communications  from  the  other  world,  I'll 
hunt  up  a  spiritualist  medium  and  get  my  informa 
tion  out  of  knocks  on  a  table.  All  you've  got  to  do 
is  to  creep  off  into  the  tomb  somewhere  and  behave." 

"  You're  perfectly  certain  I'm  dead,  are  you  ?"  said 
the  major,  getting  calmer. 

"  Why,  of  course." 

"  Can  a  dead  man  violate  the  laws  ?" 

"  Certainly  not." 

"  Well,  then,  I'm  going  to  hammer  you  with  this 
club,  and  I  reckon  you'll  find  me  the  most  energetic 
corpse  in  the  county." 

They  say  that  the  fight  was  terrific.  First  the 
major  was  on  top,  then  Myers ;  and  as  they  rolled 
over  and  over  in  the  porch  the  widow  sat  by  and 
surveyed  the  scene.  Finally,  Myers  explained  that 
upon  the  whole  he  believed  he  had  enough;  and 
when  the  major  had  given  him  a  few  supplementary 
thumps,  he  got  up,  and  gazing  at  the  prostrate 
Myers  and  at  the  widow,  he  said, 

"Take  her;  take  her,  young  man.  You're  wel 
come  to  her.  I  wouldn't  have  her  if  she  was  the 
only  woman  in  the  temperate  zone.  But  let  me  tell 
you,  before  you  get  her,  that  when  you  are  married 
to  her  you'll  wish  something'd  happen  to  send  you 
down  to  the  bottom  of  the  ocean  and  anchor  you 
there." 


GENERAL    TRUMPS  OF  THE  MILITIA.       337 


V/J- 


Then  the  major  slammed  the  gate  and  left ;  and 
he  started  life  afresh  in  New  York.  Myers  has  writ 
ten  to  him  since  to  say  that  the  only  grudge  that  he 
has  against  him  is  that  he  didn't  kill  him  in  that  fight 
in  the  porch,  for  the  widow  has  made  death  seem 
blissful  to  him;  and  the  major's  answer  was  that  the 
reason  why  he  spared  his  life  was  that  he  wanted  to 
make  his  revenge  fiendish. 

Of  course  I  do  not  vouch  for  this  part  of  the  story 
22 


338  ELBOW-ROOM. 

which  tells  of  the  major's  return.  General  Trumps 
is  responsible  for  that ;  and  I  know  that  sometimes, 
when  his  imagination  is  unduly  warmed,  he  is  prone  to 
exaggeration.  The  general's  own  domestic  matters 
are  in  the  most  charming  condition.  According  to  his 
own  story,  he  never  had  any  unpleasant  feeling  in  his 
family  but  once.  Several  years  ago  he  was  in  Wil- 
liamsport  attending  to  his  business.  While  there  he 
had  a  strong  premonition  that  something  was  the  mat 
ter  at  home ;  so,  in  order  to  satisfy  himself,  he  deter 
mined  to  run  down  to  Philadelphia  in  the  next  train. 
In  the  mean  time,  his  mother-in-law  sent  him  a  de 
spatch  to  this  effect :  "  Another  daughter  has  just  ar 
rived.  Hannah  is  poorly ;  come  home  at  once."  The 
lines  were  down,  however,  and  the  despatch  was  held 
over;  and  meanwhile  the  general  reached  home,  and 
found  his  wife  doing  pretty  well  and  the  nurse  walk 
ing  around  with  an  infant  a  day  old.  After  staying 
twenty-four  hours,  and  finding  that  everybody  was 
tolerably  comfortable,  he  returned  to  Williamsport 
without  anything  having  been  said  about  the  de 
spatch,  his  mother-in-law  supposing  of  course  that 
he  had  received  it.  The  day  after  his  arrival  the 
lines  were  fixed,  and  that  night  he  received  a  de 
spatch  from  the  telegraph  office  dated  that  very  day, 
and  conveying  the  following  intelligence  : 

"  Another  daughter  has  just  arrived.  Hannah  is 
poorly ;  come  home  at  once." 

The  general  was  amazed  and  bewildered.  He 
couldn't  understand  it.  He  walked  the  floor  of  his 


GENERAL    TRUMPS   OF   THE  MILITIA.       339 

room  all  night  trying  to  get  the  hang  of  the  thing ; 
and  the  more  he  considered  the  subject,  the  more  he 
became  alarmed  at  the  extraordinary  occurrence.  He 
took  the  early  train  for  the  city,  and  during  the 
journey  was  in  a  condition  of  frantic  bewilderment. 
When  he  arrived,  he  jumped  in  a*  cab,  drove  furiously 
to  the  house,  and  scared  his  mother-in-law  into  con 
vulsions  by  rushing  in  in  a  frenzy  and  demanding 
what  on  earth  had  happened.  He  was  greatly  re 
lieved  to  find  that  there  was  but  one  infant  in  the 
nursery,  and  to  learn  how  the  mistake  occurred. 
But  he  felt  as  if  he  would  like  to  see  the  telegraph 
operator  who  changed  the  date  of  that  despatch. 
He  wanted  to  remonstrate  with  him. 


CHAPTER   XXVIII. 

THE  MISDIRECTED  ENERGIES   OF  MR.  BRADLEY. 

|R.  BRADLEY,  our  inventor,  has  had  some 
experiences  in  addition  to  those  already 
recorded  which  may  perhaps  be  enter 
taining  to  the  reader.  One  of  the  pecu 
liarities  of  Bradley's  contrivances  is  that  when  they 
are  designed  to  do  a  specified  work,  that  is  con 
spicuously  the  work  they  cannot  possibly  be  induced 
to  do.  There,  for  instance,  was  Bradley's  famous 
steam-pump. 

Some  years  ago  Bradley  invented  a  steam-pump 
for  use  on  shipboard.  He  claimed  for  it  that  it 
would  pump  about  three  times  as  many  gallons  in  a 
minute  as  any  other  pump,  and  he  got  some  of  his 
political  friends  in  Congress  to  use  their  influence 
with  the  Navy  Department  to  have  it  tried  on  one  of 
the  navy  vessels.  Finally  he  succeeded  in  having  it 
introduced  upon  a  small  steamer,  which  we  will 
call  the  Water  Witch ;  and  when  everything  was 
ready,  the  ship  started  upon  a  trial  trip.  Soon  after 
she  got  to  sea,  Bradley,  who  was  aboard,  said  he 
would  like  to  try  the  pump  upon  the  bilge-water  to 
see  how  she  worked. 

340 


BRAD  LEY'S  PUMP.  341 

The  captain  ordered  the  engineer  to  turn  it  on, 
and  the  machine  operated  apparently  in  the  most 
beautiful  manner.  In  about  an  hour  one  of  the 
officers  reported  that  the  water  was  gaining  rapidly 
in  the  hold,  and  the  captain  sent  some  men  down  to 
discover  where  the  leak  was.  They  came  back  and 
reported  that  they  couldn't  find  the  hole,  but  that 
the  water  was  pouring  in  somewhere  in  frightful 
quantities. 

Then  some  of  the  officers  went  down  and  spent 
half  an  hour  in  water  up  to  their  waists  feeling 
around  after  that  awful  hole,  but  they  couldn't  as 
certain  where  it  was.  The  only  thing  that  they  were 
certain  of  was  that  the  water  was  steadily  gaining  on 
them,  and  the  ship  was  certain  to  sink  unless  some 
thing  was  done.  All  this  time  Mr.  Bradley's  pump 
was  working  away,  and  the  captain  continually  en 
joined  the  engineer  to  give  it  greater  speed. 

Then  the  captain  himself  went  down  and  made  an 
examination;  and  although  he  failed  to  find  the  leak, 
he  was  alarmed  to  discover  a  quantity  of  codfish  and 
porpoises  swimming  about  in  the  hold,  because  he 
knew  that  the  hole  in  the  hull  must  be  very  large 
indeed  to  admit  the  fish.  And  still  the  water  rose 
steadily  all  the  time,  although  Bradley's  pump  was 
jerking  away  at  it  in  a  terrific  manner  and  all  the 
other  pumps  were  running  at  full  speed. 

At  last  the  captain  made  up  his  mind  that  he 
should  have  to  desert  the  ship,  as  she  was  certain  to 
sink ;  and  so  the  boats  were  made  ready  and  packed 


342  ELBOW-ROOM. 

with  provisions  and  water  and  a  few  little  comforts, 
and  by  this  time  the  water  in  the  bilge  was  nearly 
up  to  the  furnace  fires. 

Just  then  Bradley's  pump  suddenly  stopped ;  and 
then  the  captain  turned  pale  as  death  and  demanded 
to  know  who  stopped  that  pump,  while  Bradley 
buckled  a  life-preserver  around  him,  corked  up  a 
note  to  his  wife  in  a  bottle,  and  said  that  now  that 
the  pump  had  ceased  he  would  give  that  steamer 
just  four  minutes  to  reach  bottom. 

While  he  was  speaking  the  engineer  came  up  and 
said, 

"  Mr.  Bradley,  what  did  you  say  was  the  capacity 
of  your  pump?" 

"  Six  hundred  gallons  a  minute." 

"  Six  hundred.  Well,  Mr.  Bradley,  how  many  gal 
lons  do  you  estimate  that  there  are  in  the  Atlantic 
Ocean  ?" 

"  Blessed  if  I  know.  How  in  the  mischief  can  I 
tell  that  ?" 

"  Oh,  it  don't  make  any  particular  difference,  only 
I  thought  you  might  have  some  kind  of  an  indistinct 
idea  how  long  it  would  take  you  to  run  the  ocean 
through  your  pump." 

"  I  dunno,  I'm  sure,"  said  Bradley. 

"  Well,  I  merely  wanted  to  say  that,  whatever 
your  calculations  respecting  the  number  of  gallons 
in  the  Atlantic,  it  is  perfectly  useless  for  you  to  try 
to  load  up  that  ocean  in  this  vessel.  She  won't  hold 
more'n  half  of  it." 


BRADLEY'S  PUMP.  343 

"  What  do  you  mean,  sir  ?"  demanded  Bradley. 

4<  Why,  I  mean  that  that  diabolical  pump  of  yours, 
instead  of  taking  out  the  bilge,  has  been  spurting 
water  into  this  vessel  for  the  past  four  hours,  and 
that  if  you  have  a  theory  that  you  can  strike  dry  land 
by  that  process  it  is  ingenious,  but  it  won't  work,  for 
it's  going  to  sink  this  ship." 

Then  the  captain  swore  till  the  air  was  blue. 
Then  he  put  Bradley  in  irons,  and  ripped  out  his 
pump,  and  unpacked  the  boats,  and  pumped  out  the 
water,  and  picked  up  the  codfish  and  porpoises,  and 
set  sail  for  home  for  the  purpose  of  making  a  report 
on  the  subject  of  the  new  invention.  The  Bradley 
Improved  Marine  Steam-pump  went  right  out  of  use 
at  the  end  of  the  voyage. 

Another  invention  of  Bradley's  was  a  scientific 
system  of  foretelling  the  weather.  He  had  a  lot  of 
barometers,  hygrometers  and  such  things  in  his 
house,  and  he  claimed  that  by  reading  these  intelli 
gently  and  watching  the  clouds,  in  accordance  with 
his  theory,  a  man  could  prophesy  what  kind  o£ 
weather  there  would  be  three  days  ahead.  They 
were  getting  up  a  Sunday-school  picnic  in  town  in 
May;  and  as  Bradley  ascertained  that  there  would 
be  no  rain  on  a  certain  Thursday,  they  selected  that 
day  for  the  purpose.  The  sky  looked  gloomy  when 
they  started ;  but  as  Bradley  declared  that  it  abso 
lutely  couldn't  rain  on  Thursday,  everybody  felt  that 
it  was  safe  to  go.  About  two  hours  after  the  party 
reached  the  grounds,  however,  a  shower  came  up,  and 


344  ELBOW-ROOM. 

it  rained  so  hard  that  it  ruined  all  the  provisions,  wet 
everybody  to  the  skin  and  washed  the  cake  into 
dough.  On  the  following  Monday  the  agricultural 
exhibition  was  to  be  held;  but  as  Mr.  Bradley  foresaw 
that  there  would  be  a  terrible  north-east  storm  on 
that  day,  he  suggested  to  the  president  of  the  society 
that  it  had  better  be  postponed.  So  they  put  it  off; 
and  that  was  the  only  clear  Monday  we  had  during 
May.  About  the  first  of  June,  Mr.  Bradley  an 
nounced  that  there  would  not  be  any  rain  until  the 
1 5th;  and  consequently  we  had  showers  everyday 
right  along  up  to  that  time,  with  the  exception  of  the 
loth  when  there  was  a  slight  spit  of  snow.  So 
on  the  1 5th,  Bradley  foresaw  that  the  rest  of  the 
month  would  be  wet;  and  by  an  odd  coincidence  a 
drought  set  in  and  it  only  rained  once  during  the  two 
weeks,  and  that  was  the  day  on  which  Bradley  in 
formed  the  base-ball  club  that  it  could  play  a  match, 
because  it  would  be  clear. 

On  toward  the  first  of  July  he  began  to  have  some 
doubts  if  his  improved  weather-system  was  correct ; 
he  was  convinced  that  it  must  work  by  contraries.  So 
when  Professor  Jones  asked  him  if  it  would  be  safe 
to  attempt  to  have  a  display  of  fireworks  on  the 
night  of  the  5th,  Bradley  brought  the  improved  sys 
tem  into  play,  and  discovered  that  it  promised  rainy 
weather  on  that  night.  So  then  he  was  certain  it 
would  be  clear;  and  he  told  Professor  Jones  to  go 
ahead. 

On  the  night  of  the  5th,  just  as  the  professor  got 


BRADLEY^  S  CRADLE.  345 

his  Catherine-wheels  and  sky-rockets  all  in  position, 
it  began  to  rain ;  and  that  was  the  most  awful  storm 
we  had  that  year:  it  raised  the  river  nearly  three 
feet.  As  soon  as  it  began  Bradley  got  the  axe  and 
went  up  stairs  and  smashed  his  hydrometers,  hy 
grometers,  barometers  and  thermometers.  Then  he 
cut  down  the  pole  that  upheld  the  weathercock  and 
burned  the  manuscript  of  the  book  which  he  was 
writing  in  explanation  of  his  system.  He  leans  on 
"Old  Probs"  now  when  he  wants  to  ascertain  the 
probable  state  of  the  weather. 

When  his  first  baby  was  born,  Bradley  invented 
a  self-rocking  cradle  for  it.  He  constructed  the  mo 
tive-power  of  the  machine  from  some  old  clockwork 
which  was  operated  by  a  huge  steel  ribbon  spring 
strong  enough  to  move  a  horse-car  and  long  enough 
to  run  for  a  week  without  rewinding.  When  the 
cradle  was  completed,  he  put  the  baby  in  it  upon  a 
pillow  and  started  the  machinery.  It  worked  beau 
tifully,  and  after  watching  it  for  a  while  Bradley  went 
to  bed  in  a  peaceful  and  happy  frame  of  mind.  To 
ward  midnight  he  heard  something  go  r-r-r-rip ! 
Buzz-z-z-z  !  Crash  !  Bang !  Then  a  pin  or  something 
of  the  kind  in  the  clockwork  gave  way,  and  before 
Bradley  could  get  out  of  bed  the  cradle  containing 
the  baby  was  making  ninety  revolutions  a  minute, 
and  hopping  around  the  room  and  slamming  up 
against  the  furniture  in  a  manner  that  was  simply 
awful  to  look  at. 


346  ELBOW-ROOM. 

How  to  get  the  child  out  was  now  the  only  con 
sideration  which  presented  itself  to  the  mind  of  the 
inventor.  A  happy  thought  struck  him.  He  took 
a  slat  out  of  the  bedstead  and  held  it  under  the  cra 
dle.  On  the  next  down-stroke  it  stopped  with  a 


jerk,  and  the  baby  was  thrown,  like  a  stone  out  of  a 
catapult,  against  the  washstand,  fortunately  with  the 
pillow  to  break  its  fall.  But  the  machine  kept  whiz 
zing  round  and  round  the  room  as  soon  as  the  slat 
was  withdrawn,  and  Bradley,  in  an  ecstasy  of  rage, 
flung  it  out  the  back  window  into  the  yard.  It  con- 


BRADLEY^S  PERAMBULATOR.  347 

tinued  to  make  such  a  clatter  there  that  he  had  to 
go  down  and  pile  up  barrels  and  slop-buckets  and 
bricks  and  clothes-props  and  part  of  the  grape-arbor 
on  it,  so  that  all  it  could  do  was  to  lie  there  all  night 
buzzing  with  a  kind  of  smothered  hum  and  keeping 
the  next-door  neighbors  awake,  so  that  they  pelted 
it  with  bootjacks,  under  the  impression  that  it  was 
cats. 

Mrs.  Bradley  expressed  such  decided  views  re 
specting  cradles  of  that  pattern  that  Mr.  Bradley 
turned  his  attention  to  other  matters  than  those  of 
a  domestic  character.  He  resolved  to  revolutionize 
navigation.  It  occurred  to  him  that  some  kind  of  an 
apparatus  might  be  devised  by  which  a  man  could 
walk  upon  the  surface  of  the  water,  and  he  went  to 
work  at  it.  The  result  was  that  in  a  few  weeks  he 
produced  and  patented  Bradley 's  Water  Perambula 
tor.  It  consisted  of  a  couple  of  shallow  scows,  each 
about  four  feet  long.  These  were  to  be  fastened  to 
the  feet ;  and  Bradley  informed  his  friends  that  with 
a  little  practice  a  man  could  glide  over  the  bosom  of 
a  river  with  the  ease  and  velocity  with  which  a  good 
skater  skims  over  the  ice. 

It  looked  like  a  splendid  thing.  Bradley  said  that 
it  would  certainly  produce  a  revolution  in  navigation, 
and  make  men  wholly  independent  of  steamers  and 
other  vessels  when  they  desired  to  travel  upon  water 
with  rapidity.  Bradley  intimated  that  the  day  would 
come  when  a  man  would  mount  a  water  perambu 
lator  and  go  drifting  off  to  India,  sliding  over  the 


ELBOW-ROOM. 

bounding  billows  of  the  dark  blue  sea  as  serenely  as 
if  he  were  walking  along  a  turnpike. 

And  one  day  Bradley  asked  a  select  party  to  come 
down  to  the  river  to  see  him  make  a  trial-trip.  At 
the  appointed  time  he  appeared  with  something  that 
looked  like  a  small  frigate  under  each  arm  ;  and  when 
he  had  fastened  them  securely  upon  his  feet,  he  pre 
pared  to  lower  himself  over  the  edge  of  the  wharf. 
He  asked  the  spectators  to  designate  a  point  upon 
the  thither  shore  at  which  they  wished  him  to  land. 
It  was  immaterial  to  him,  he  said,  whether  he  went 
one  mile  or  ten,  up  stream  or  down,  because  he 
should  glide  around  upon  the  surface  of  the  stream 
with  the  ease  and  grace  of  a  swallow.  Then  they 
fixed  a  point  for  him  ;  and  when  he  had  dropped  into 
the  water,  he  steadied  himself  for  a  moment  by  hold 
ing  to  the  pier  while  he  fastened  his  eye  upon  his 
destination  and  prepared  to  start. 

At  last  he  said  the  experiment  would  begin ;  and 
he  struck  out  with  his  left  foot.  As  he  did  so  the 
front  end  of  that  particular  scow  scuttled  under 
water,  and  as  he  tried  to  save  himself  by  bringing 
forward  his  right  foot,  that  section  of  Bradley's 
Water  Perambulator  also  dipped  under,  and  Brad 
ley  fell. 

A  moment  later  he  was  hanging  head  downward 
in  the  river,  with  nothing  visible  to  the  anxious 
spectators  but  the  bottoms  of  two  four-foot  frigates. 
The  perambulator  simply  kept  the  body  of  Bradley 
under  the  water.  Then  a  man  went  out  in  a  skiff 


THE  PERAMBULATOR. 


349 


and  pulled  the  inventor  in  with  a  boat-hook.  When 
he  came  ashore,  they  unbuckled  his  scows,  took  off 
his  clothing  and  rolled  him  upon  an  oil-barrel.  In 
half  an  hour  he  revived,  and  with  a  deep  groan  he 
said, 

"  Where  am  I  ?" 

His  friends  explained  his  situation  to  him,  and 
then  he  asked, 

"  What  drowned  me  ?" 


350  ELBOW-ROOM. 

They  told  him  sadly  that  he  was  injured  during 
an  attempt  to  revolutionize  navigation  and  to  pre 
pare  the  way  for  a  walk  to  India. 

"  How  did  I  try  to  do  it  ?"  he  inquired. 

They  wept  as  they  reminded  him  that  he  had 
started  to  skim  over  the  river  like  a  swallow,  with  a 
scow  upon  each  foot,  and  then  he  faintly  said, 

"  Where  in  thunder  are  those  machines  ?" 

His  friends  produced  the  new  motor  with  which 
Bradley  intended  to  break  up  the  steamship  lines ; 
and  when  he  had  looked  at  them  for  a  moment,  he 
fell  back  and  whispered, 

"  It's  no  use.  I  can't  do  'em  justice.  Eight  men 
couldn't  cuss  'em  to  satisfy  me.  But  split  'em  up ! 
Have  'em  mashed  into  kin'lin-wood  before  I  get 
well,  or  the  sight  of  'em'll  set  me  crazy." 

Then  he  was  carried  home,  and  after  being  in  bed 
about  a  fortnight  he  came  out  with  a  pallid  cheek, 
a  sorrowful  heart  and  ideas  for  six  or  seven  new 
machines. 


CHAPTER   XXIX. 

THE   TRIALS  OF  MR.  KEYSER,   GRANGER. 

|R.  KEYSER  mentioned  recently  that  he 
had  employed  a  new  hired  girl,  and  that 
soon  after  her  arrival  Mrs.  Keyser,  before 
starting  to  spend  the  day  with  a  friend, 
instructed  the  girl  to  whitewash  the  kitchen  during 
her  absence.  Upon  returning,  Mrs.  Keyser  found 
the  job  completed  in  a  very  satisfactory  manner. 
On  Wednesday,  Mrs.  Keyser  always  churns,  and 
on  the  following  Wednesday,  when  she  was  ready, 
she  went  out ;  and  finding  that  Mr.  Keyser  had  al 
ready  put  the  milk  into  the  churn,  she  began  to 
turn,  the  handle.  This  was  at  eight  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  and  she  turned  until  ten  without  any  signs 
of  butter  appearing.  Then  she  called  in  the  hired 
man,  and  he  turned  until  dinner-time,  when  he 
knocked  off  with  some  very  offensive  language, 
addressed  to  the  butter,  which  had  not  yet  come. 
After  dinner  the  hired  girl  took  hold  of  the  crank 
and  turned  it  energetically  until  two  o'clock,  when 
she  let  go  with  a  remark  which  conveyed  the  im 
pression  that  she  believed  the  churn  to  be  haunted. 
Then  Mr.  Keyser  came  out  and  said  he  wanted  to 

351 


352  ELBOW-ROOM. 

know  what  was  the  matter  with  that  churn.  It  was 
a  good  enough  churn  if  people  only  knew  enough  to 
use  it.  Mr.  Keyser  then  worked  the  crank  until  half- 
past  three,  when,  as  the  butter  had  not  come,  he  sur 
rendered  it  again  to  the  hired  man  because  he  had 
an  engagement  in  the  village.  The  man  ground  the 
machine  to  an  accompaniment  of  frightful  impreca 
tions.  Then  the  Keyser  children  each  took  a  turn  for 
half  an  hour,  then  Mrs.  Keyser  tried  her  hand ;  and 
when  she  was  exhausted,  she  again  enlisted  the  hired 
girl,  who  said  her  prayers  while  she  turned.  But 
the  butter  didn't  come. 

When  Keyser  came  home  and  found  the  churn 
still  in  action,  he  felt  angry;  and  seizing  the  handle, 
he  said  he'd  make  the  butter  come  if  he  stirred  up  an 
earthquake  in  doing  it.  Mr.  Keyser  effected  about 
two  hundred  revolutions  of  the  crank  a  minute — 
enough  to  have  made  any  ordinary  butter  come  from 
the  ends  of  the  earth ;  and  when  the  perspiration  be 
gan  to  stream  from  him,  and  still  the  butter  didn't 
come,  he  uttered  one  wild  yell  of  rage  and  disappoint 
ment  and  kicked  the  churn  over  the  fence.  When 
Mrs.  Keyser  went  to  pick  it  up,  she  put  her  nose 
down  close  to  the  buttermilk  and  took  a  sniff.  Then 
she  understood  how  it  was.  The  girl  had  mixed  the 
whitewash  in  the  churn  and  left  it  there.  A  good, 
honest  and  intelligent  servant  who  knows  how  to 
churn  could  have  found  a  situation  at  Keyser's  the 
next  day.  There  was  a  vacancy. 

Mr.  Keyser  during  the  summer  made  a  very  nar- 


THE    TRIALS  OF  MR.  KEYSER,  GRANGER.    353 

row  escape  from  a  melancholy  ending.  He  dreamed 
one  night  that  he  would  die  on  the  t4th  of  Septem 
ber.  So  strongly  was  he  assured  of  the  fact  that  the 
vision  would  prove  true  that  he  began  at  once  to 
make  preparations  for  his  departure.  He  got  mea 
sured  for  a  burial-suit,  he  drew  up  his  will,  he  picked 
out  a  nice  lot  in  the  cemetery  and  had  it  fenced  in, 
he  joined  the  church  and  selected  six  of  the  dea 
cons  as  his  pall-bearers ;  he  also  requested  the  choir 
to  sing  at  the  funeral,  and  he  got  them  to  run  over 
a  favorite  hymn  of  his  to  see  how  it  would  sound. 
Then  he  got  Toombs,  the  undertaker,  to  knock  to 
gether  a  burial-casket  with  silver-plated  handles,  and 
cushions  inside,  and  he  instructed  the  undertaker  to 
use  his  best  hearse,  and  to  buy  sixty  pairs  of  black 
gloves,  to  be  distributed  among  the  mourners.  He 
had  some  trouble  deciding  upon  a  tombstone.  The 
man  at  the  marble-yard,  however,  at  last  sold  him  a 
beautiful  one  with  an  angel  weeping  over  a  kind 
of  a  flower-pot,  with  the  legend,  "  Not  lost,  but 
gone  before." 

Then  he  got  the  village  newspaper  to  put  a  good 
obituary  notice  of  him  in  type,  and  he  told  his  wife 
that  he  would  be  gratified  if  she  would  come  out  in 
the  spring  and  plant  violets  upon  his  grave.  He 
said  it  was  hard  to  leave  her  and  the  children,  but 
she  must  try  and  bear  up  under  it.  These  afflictions 
are  for  our  good,  and  when  he  was  an  angel  he  would 
come  and  watch  over  her  and  keep  his  eye  on  her. 
He  said  she  might  marry  again  if  she  wanted  to ;  for 

23 


354  ELBOW-ROOM. 

although  the  mere  thought  of  it  nearly  broke  his 
heart,  he  wished  her,  above  all,  to  be  happy,  and  to 
have  some  one  to  love  her  and  protect  her  from  the 
storms  of  the  rude  world.  Then  he  and  Mrs.  Key- 
ser  and  the  children  cried,  and  Keyser,  as  a  closing 
word  of  counsel,  advised  her  not  to  plough  for  corn 
earlier  than  the  middle  of  March. 

On  the  night  of  the  i$th  of  September  there  was 
a  flood  in  the  creek,  and  Keyser  got  up  at  four 
o'clock  in  the  morning  of  the  I4th  and  worked  un 
til  night,  trying  to  save  his  buildings  and  his  wood 
pile.  He  was  so  busy  that  he  forgot  all  about  its 
being  the  day  of  his  death ;  and  as  he  was  very  tired, 
he  went  to  bed  early  and  slept  soundly  all  night. 

About  six  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  the  I5th 
there  was  a  ring  at  the  door-bell.  Keyser  jumped 
out  of  bed,  threw  up  the  front  window  and  ex 
claimed, 

"  Who's  there  ?" 

"  It's  me — Toombs,"  said  the  undertaker. 

"What  do  you  want  at  this  time  of  the  morning?" 
demanded  Keyser. 

"  Want  ?"  said  Toombs,  not  recognizing  Keyser. 
"  Why,  I've  brought  around  the  ice  to  pack  Keyser 
in,  so's  he'll  keep  until  the  funeral.  The  corpse'd 
spoil  this  kind  of  weather  if  we  didn't." 

Then  Keyser  remembered,  and  it  made  him  feel 
angry  when  he  thought  how  the  day  had  passed  and 
left  him  still  alive,  and  how  he  had  made  a  fool  of 
himself.  So  he  said, 


THE    TRIALS  OF  MR.  KEYSER,  GRANGER.   355 

"  Well,  you  can  just  skeet  around  home  agin 
with  that  ice  ;  the  corpse  is  not  yet  dead.  You're  a 
little  too  anxious,  it  strikes  me.  You're  not  goin'  to 
inter  me  yet,  if  you  have  got  everything  ready.  So 
you  can  haul  off  and  unload." 

About  half-past  ten  that  morning  the  deacons 
came  around,  with  crape  on  their  hats  and  gloom  in 
their  faces,  to  carry  the  body  to  the  grave ;  and  while 
they  were  on  the  front  steps  the  marble- yard  man 
drove  up  with  the  flower-pot  tombstone  and  a  shovel, 
and  stepped  in  to  ask^  the  widow  how  deep  she 
wanted  the  grave  dug.  Just  then  the  choir  arrived 
with  the  minister,  and  the  company  was  assembled 
in  the  parlor,  when  Keyser  came  in  from  the  stable, 
where  he  had  been  dosing  a  horse  with  patent  medi 
cine  and  warm  "mash"  for  the  glanders.  He  was 
surprised,  but  he  proceeded  to  explain  that  there 
had  been  a  little  mistake,  somehow.  He  was  also 
pained  to  find  that  everybody  seemed  to  be  a  good 
deal  disappointed,  particularly  the  tombstone-man, 
who  went  away  mad,  declaring  that  such  an  old  fraud 
ought  to  be  buried,  anyhow,  dead  or  alive.  Just  as 
the  deacons  left  in  a  huff  the  tailor's  boy  arrived  with 
the  burial-suit,  and  before  Keyser  could  kick  him 
off  the  steps  the  paper-carrier  flung  into  the  door  th$ 
Patriot,  in  which  that  obituary  notice  occupied  a 
prominent  place. 

Anybody  who  wants  a  good  reliable  tombstone 
that  has  a  flower-pot  and  an  angel  on  it,  with  an 
affecting  inscription,  can  buy  one  of  that  kind,  at  a 


ELBOW-ROOM. 

sacrifice  for  cash,  from  Keyser.  He  thinks  the  bad 
dream  must  have  been  caused  by  eating  too  much  at 
supper. 

After  he  felt  assured  that  he  should  have  to  remain 
a  little  longer  in  this  troublous  world,  Mr.  Keyser 
determined  to  effect  some  improvements  of  his  farm 
that  he  had  thought  of.  He  greatly  needed  a  con 
stant  supply  of  water,  and  he  resolved  to  bore  an 
artesian  well  in  the  barn-yard.  The  boring  was  done 
with  a  two-inch  auger  fixed  in  the  end  of  an  iron 
rod,  which  was  twisted  around  by  a  wheel  worked 
by  two  men.  One  day,  after  they  had  gone  down  a 
good  many  feet,  they  tried  to  pull  the  rod  out,  but  it 
would  not  come.  They  were  afraid  to  use  much 
force  lest  the  auger  should  come  off  and  stay  in  the 
hole,  and  so,  as  the  boring  went  along  well  enough, 
they  concluded  to  keep  on  turning,  and  to  trust  to  the 
force  of  the  water,  when  they  struck  it,  to  drive  the 
loose  dirt  up  from  the  hole.  When  they  had  gone 
down  about  three  hundred  and  fifty  feet,  they  began 
to  think  it  queer  that  there  were  no  signs  of  water, 
but  they  bored  a  hundred  feet  farther  ;  and  one  day, 
just  as  they  were  beginning  on  another  hundred, 
something  odd  happened. 

On  the  day  in  question  Keyser's  boy  came  run 
ning  into  the  house  and  told  him  to  come  into  the 
garden  quick,  for  there  was  some  kind  of  an  extraor 
dinary  animal  with  a  sharp  nose  burrowing  out  of  the 
ground.  Keyser  concluded  that  it  must  be  either  a 
potato-bug  or  a  grasshopper  that  had  been  hatched 


THE   TRIALS  OF  MR.  KEYSER,  GRANGER.    357 


in  the  spring,  and  he  took  out  a  bottle  of  poison  to 
drop  on  it  when  it  came  up.  When  Keyser  reached 
the  spot,  a  couple  of  hundred  yards  from  where  they 
were  boring  the  well,  there  certainly  was  some  kind 
of  a  creature  slowly  pushing  its  way  up  through  the 
sod.  Its  nose  seemed  to  resemble  a  sharp  point  like 
steel.  Keyser  dropped  some  poison  on  it;  but  it 
didn't  appear  to  mind  the  stuff,  but  kept  slowly 
creeping  up  from  the  ground.  Then  Keyser  felt  it, 
and  was  astonished  to  find  that  it  felt  exactly  like  the 
end  of  a  fork-prong.  He  sent  the  boy  over  to  call 


358  ELBOW-ROOM. 

Perkins  and  the  rest  of  the  neighbors.  Pretty  soon 
a  large  crowd  collected,  and  by  this  time  the  animal 
had  emerged  to  the  extent  of  a  couple  of  inches. 

Everybody  was  amazed  to  see  that  it  looked  ex 
actly  like  the  end  of  a  large  auger;  and  two  or  three 
timid  men  were  so  scared  at  the  idea  of  such  a  thing 
actually  growing  out  of  the  earth  that  they  suddenly 
got  over  the  fence  and  left.  Perkins  couldn't  account 
for  it;  but  he  suggested  that  maybe  somebody  might 
have  planted  a  gimlet  there,  and  it  had  taken  root 
and  blossomed  out  into  an  auger;  but  he  admitted 
that  he  had  never  heard  of  such  a  thing  before. 

The  excitement  increased  so  that  the  men  who 
were  boring  the  artesian  well  knocked  off  and  came 
over  to  see  the  phenomenon.  It  was  noticed  that  as 
soon  as  they  stopped  work  the  auger  ceased  to  grow; 
and  when  they  arrived,  they  looked  at  it  for  a  minute, 
and  one  of  them  said, 

"  Bill,  do  you  recognize  that  auger?" 

"  I  think  I  do,"  said  Bill. 

"  Well,  Bill,  you  go  and  unhitch  that  wheel  from 
the  other  end  of  the  rod." 

Bill  did  so ;  and  then  the  other  man  asked  the 
crowd  to  take  hold  of  the  auger  and  pull.  They 
did ;  and  out  came  four  hundred  and  fifty  feet  of  iron 
rod.  The  auger  had  slid  off  to  the  side,  turned  up 
ward  and  come  to  the  surface  in  Keyser's  garden. 
Then  the  artesian  well  was  abandoned,  and  Keyser 
bought  a  steam-pump  and  began  to  get  water  from 
the  river. 


THE   TRIALS  OF  MR.  KEYSER,  GRANGER.   359 

Another  remarkable  boring  experience  that  oc 
curred  in  our  neighborhood  deserves  to  be  related 
here.  When  Butterwick  bought  his  present  place, 
the  former  owner  offered,  as  one  of  the  inducements 
to  purchase,  the  fact  that  there  was  a  superb  sugar- 
maple  tree  in  the  garden.  It  was  a  noble  tree,  and 
Butterwick  made  up  his  mind  that  he  would  tap  it 
some  day  and  manufacture  some  sugar.  However, 
he  never  did  so  until  last  year.  Then  he  concluded 
to  draw  the  sap  and  to  have  "  a  sugar-boiling." 

Mr.  Butterwick's  wife's  uncle  was  staying  with 
him,  and  after  inviting  some  friends  to  come  and 
eat  the  sugar  they  got  to  work.  They  took  a  huge 
wash-kettle  down  into  the  yard  and  piled  some  wood 
beneath  it,  and  then  they  brought  out  a  couple  of 
buckets  to  catch  the  sap,  and  the  auger  with  which 
to  bore  a  hole  in  the  tree. 

Butterwick's  wife's  uncle  said  that  the  bucket 
ought  to  be  set  about  three  feet  from  the  tree,  as 
the  sap  would  spurt  right  out  with  a  good  deal  of 
force,  and  it  would  be  a  pity  to  waste  any  of  it. 

Then  he  lighted  the  fire,  while  Butterwick  bored 
the  hole  about  four  inches  deep.  When  he  took  the 
auger  out,  the  sap  did  not  follow,  but  Butterwick's 
wife's  uncle  said  what  it  wanted  was  a  little  time,  and 
so,  while  the  folks  waited,  he  put  a  fresh  armful  of 
wood  on  the  fire.  They  waited  half  an  hour;  and  as 
the  sap  didn't  come,  Butterwick  concluded  that  the 
hole  was  not  deep  enough,  so  he  began  boring  again, 
but  he  bored  too  far,  for  the  auger  went  clear 


360  ELBOW-RO  OM, 

through  the  tree  and  penetrated  the  back  of  his 
wife's  uncle,  who  was  leaning  up  against  the  trunk 
trying  to  light  his  pipe.  He  jumped  nearly  forty 
feet,  and  they  had  to  mend  him  up  with  court-plaster. 

Then  he  said  he  thought  the  reason  the  sap  didn't 
come  was  that  there  ought  to  be  a  kind  of  spigot  in 
the  hole,  so  as  to  let  it  run  off  easily.  They  got  the 
wooden  spigot  from  the  vinegar-barrel  in  the  cellar 
and  inserted  it.  Then,  as  the  sap  did  not  come, 
Butterwick's  wife's  uncle  said  he  thought  the  spigot 
must  be  jammed  in  so  tight  that  it  choked  the  flow ; 
and  while  Butterwick  tried  to  push  it  out,  his  wife's 
uncle  fed  the  fire  with  some  kindling-wood.  As  the 
spigot  could  not  be  budged  with  a  hammer,  Butter- 
wick  concluded  to  bore  it  out  with  the  auger;  and 
meanwhile  his  wife's  uncle  stirred  the  fire.  Then 
the  auger  broke  off  short  in  the  hole,  and  Butterwick 
had  to  go  half  a  mile  to  the  hardware-store  to  get 
another  one. 

Then  Butterwick  bored  a  fresh  hole ;  and  although 
the  sap  would  not  come,  the  company  did ;  and  they 
examined  with  much  interest  the  kettle,  which  was 
now  red-hot,  and  which  Butterwick's  wife's  uncle  was 
trying  to  lift  off  the  fire  with  the  hay-fork.  As  the 
sap  still  refused  to  come,  Butterwick  went  over  for 
Keyser  to  ask  him  how  to  make  the  exasperating 
tree  disgorge.  When  he  arrived,  he  looked  at  the 
hole,  then  at  the  spigot,  then  at  the  kettle  and  then 
at  the  tree.  Then,  turning  to  Butterwick  with  a 
mournful  face,  he  said, 


TOO  MUCH   OF  A   BORE. 


THE   TRIALS  OF  MR.  KE  YSER,   GRANGER.   363 

"  Butterwick,  you  have  had  a  good  deal  of  trouble 
in  your  life,  an'  it's  done  you  good ;  it's  made  a  man 
of  you.  This  world  is  full  of  sorrow,  but  we  must 
bear  it  without  grumbling.  You  know  that,  of  course. 
Consequently,  now  that  I've  some  bad  news  to  break 
to  you,  I  feel  'sif  the  shock  won't  knock  you  end 
ways,  but'll  be  received  with  patient  resignation.  I 
say  I  hope  you  won't  break  down  an'  give  away  to 
your  feelin's  when  I  tell  you  that  there  tree  is  no 
sugar-maple  at  all.  Grashus!  why,  that's  a  black 
hickory.  It  is,  indeed;  and  you  might  as  well  bore 
for  maple-sugar  in  the  side  of  a  telegraph-pole." 

Then  the  company  went  home,  and  Butterwick's 
wife's  uncle  said  he  had  an  engagement  with  a  man 
in  Hatboro'  which  he  must  keep  right  ofif.  But 
terwick  took  the  kettle  up  to  the  house ;  but  as  it  was 
burned  out,  he  sold  it  next  day  for  fifteen  cents  for 
old  iron  and  bought  a  new  one  for  twelve  dollars. 
He  thinks  now  maybe  it's  better  to  buy  your  maple 
sugar. 


CHAPTER   XXX. 

MR.  BANGER'S  AUNT. 

iHERE  are  two  families  of  Bangers  in  our 
neighborhood,  the  heads  of  which  have 
the  same  name  —  Henry  Banger.  The 
Henry  who  married  the  widow,  hereto 
fore  mentioned,  is  a  lawyer  in  the  village,  while  the 
other,  having  no  relationship  to  the  former,  is  a  "  pro 
fessor,"  and  he  lives  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  river, 
in  a  hamlet  that  has  grown  up  there.  One  day  Henry 
Banger,  the  lawyer,  received  a  telegram  saying  that 
his  aunt  had  died  suddenly  in  Elmira,  New  York, 
and  that  the  body  would  be  sent  on  at  once  by  ex 
press.  Mr.  Banger  made  preparations  for  the  fune 
ral,  and  upon  the  day  that  the  remains  were  due  he 
went  down  to  the  express  office  to  receive  them. 

They  did  not  come,  however;  and  when  the  agent 
telegraphed  to  ask  about  them,  he  ascertained  that 
Mr.  Banger's  aunt  had  been  carried  through  to  Bal 
timore  by  mistake.  Orders  were  sent  at  once  to 
reship  the  body  with  all  possible  speed;  and  ac 
cordingly,  it  was  placed  upon  the  cars  of  the  North 
ern  Central  Railroad.  As  the  train  was  proceeding 
north  a  collision  occurred.  The  train  was  wrecked, 

364 


MR.   BANGER'S  AUNT.  365 

and  Mr.  Banger's  aunt  was  tossed  rudely  out  upon 
the  roadside. 

The  people  who  were  attending  to  things  supposed 
that  she  was  one  of  the  victims  of  the  accident,  and 
so  the  coroner  held  an  inquest;  and  as  nobody  knew 
who  she  was,  she  was  sent  back  to  Baltimore  and 
interred  by  the  authorities.  As  she  did  not  reach 
Mr.  Banger,  he  induced  the  express  company  to  hunt 
her  up ;  and  when  her  resting-place  was  discovered, 
they  took  her  up,  placed  her  in  a  casket  and  shipped 
her  again. 

During  that  trip  some  thieves  got  into  the  express 
car  and  threw  out  the  iron  money-chest  and  Mr. 
Banger's  aunt,  supposing  that  the  casket  contained 
treasure.  On  the  following  morning  a  farmer  dis 
covered  Mr.  Banger's  aunt  in  the  casket  leaning  up 
against  a  tree  in  the  woods.  He  sent  for  the  coro 
ner;  and  when  another  inquest  had  been  held,  they 
were  about  to  bury  the  remains,  and  would  have 
done  so  had  not  a  telegram  come  from  the  express 
company  instructing  the  authorities  to  ship  Mr. 
Banger's  aunt  back  to  Baltimore. 

Mr.  Banger,  meantime,  endured  the  most  agoniz-. 
ing  suspense,  and  began  to  talk  about  suing  the 
express  company  for  damages.  At  last,  however, 
he  received  information  that  the  departed  one  had 
been  sent  on  upon  the  Philadelphia,  Wilmington  and 
Baltimore  Railroad.  So  she  had.  But  as  the  train 
was  crossing  Gunpowder  River  the  express  car  gave 
a  lurch,  and  the  next  moment  Mr.  Banger's  aunt 


366  ELBOW-ROOM. 

shot  through  the  door  into  the  water.  She  sailed 
around  in  the  bay  for  several  days,  apparently  uncer 
tain  whether  to  seek  the  ocean  and  move  straight 
across  for  Europe,  or  to  go  up  into  the  interior.  She 
chose  the  latter  course,  and  a  week  afterward  she 
drifted  ashore  in  the  Lower  Susquehanna. 

As  soon  as  she  was  discovered  the  coroner  held 
an  inquest,  and  then  put  her  on  the  cars  again.  This 
time  she  came  directly  to  Millburg,  and  Mr.  Banger 
was  at  the  depot  waiting  for  her  with  the  funeral. 
By  some  mistake,  however,  she  was  carried  past  and 
put  out  at  the  next  town  above,  and  the  agent  said 
that  the  best  thing  he  could  do  would  be  to  have 
her  brought  down  in  the  morning.  In  the  morning 
she  came,  and  Mr.  Banger  was  there  with  the  friends 
of  the  family  to  receive  her. 

When  they  reached  the  cemetery,  Rev.  Dr.  Dox 
delivered  a  most  affecting  discourse ;  and  when  all 
was  over,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Banger  had  wiped  away 
their  tears,  they  went  slowly  home,  sorrowful,  of 
course,  but  somewhat  glad  that  the  long  suspense 
was  ended. 

As  Mr.  Banger  entered  his  sitting-room  he  saw  a 
lady  reposing  in  front  of  the  fire,  with  her  back 
toward  him,  toasting  her  toes.  Before  he  had  time 
to  speak  she  looked  around,  and  he  was  amazed  to 
perceive  that  it  was  his  dead-and-buried  aunt.  He 
was  a  little  frightened  at  first,  but  in  a  moment  he 
summoned  up  courage  enough  to  ask, 

"  Why,  how  did  you  get  here  ?" 


MR.  BANGER'S  AUNT.  367 

"  I  came  on  the  train,  of  course." 

"  Yes,  I  know ;  but  how  did  you  get  out  of  the 
cemetery  ?" 

"  Cemetery  ?  What  cemetery  ?  I  haven't  been 
in  any  cemetery !" 

"  Not  been  in  the  cemetery  !  Why,  either  I  buried 
you  an  hour  ago,  or  I  am  the  worst  mistaken  man  on 
earth." 

"  Mr.  Banger,  what  do  you  mean  ?  This  is  a  curi 
ous  sort  of  a  jest." 

Then  Banger  explained  the  situation  to  her ;  and 
as  she  solemnly  protested  that  she  had  not  been  in 
Elmira,  Banger  was  about  to  conclude  that  he  had 
been  the  victim  of  a  joke,  when  it  suddenly  occurred 
to  him  that  maybe  it  was  the  aunt  of  Professor 
Banger.  He  sent  out  to  investigate  the  matter,  and 
found  that  the  conjecture  was  correct.  And  when 
Professor  Banger  heard  about  it,  he  became  very 
angry,  and  he  entered  suit  against  the  lawyer  Banger 
for  embezzling  his  aunt.  Then  Lawyer  Banger  sued 
the  professor  for  the  express  charges  and  the  funeral 
expenses,  and  for  a  time  it  looked  as  if  that  eccen 
tric  and  roving  old  lady  would  be  the  cause  of  in 
finite  trouble ;  but  the  difficulty  was  finally  compro 
mised  by  the  lawyer  Banger  accepting  half  the 
amount  of  his  expenses. 

Professor  Banger  was  originally  a  telegraph-oper 
ator,  but  some  years  ago  he  saved  up  a  small  sum 
of  money,  with  which  he  constructed  a  balloon. 


368  ELBOW-ROOM. 

Then  he  tacked  "  professor  "  to  his  name,  and  began 
to  devote  himself  to  science  and  the  show  business. 
His  account  of  one  of  his  recent  excursions  is  not 
only  entertaining,  but  it  proves  that  he  is  an  ardent 
student  of  natural  phenomena.  He  said  to  me, 

"  We  went  up  at  Easton,  Pennsylvania ;  Conly, 
Jones  and  myself,  and  it  was  the  finest  trip  I  ever 
took.  Perfectly  splendid  !  We  got  the  balloon  full 
about  twelve  o'clock,  and  the  crowd  held  her  down 
until  we  were  ready.  Then  I  gave  the  word  and 
they  let  go,  and  we  went  a-humming  into  the  air. 
One  man  got  caught  in  a  twist  of  the  rope  as  she 
gave  her  first  spurt  upward,  and  it  slammed  him  up 
against  a  fence  as  if  he'd  been  shot  out  of  a  gun. 
Smashed  in  three  or  four  of  his  ribs,  I  believe,  and 
cracked  his  leg. 

"  But  we  went  up  beautifully  about  fifteen  hun 
dred  feet,  and  while  we  were  looking  at  the  charm 
ing  scenery  we  ran  into  a  cloud,  and  I  told  Conly 
to  throw  out  some  ballast.  He  heaved  over  a  cou 
ple  of  sand-bags,  and  one  of  them  accidentally  fell 
on  Major  Wiggins'  hired  girl,  who  was  hanging 
clothes  in  the  garden,  and  the  other  went  into  his 
chimney  and  choked  it  up.  He  was  mad  as  fury 
about  it  when  we  came  down.  No  enthusiasm  for 
science.  Some  men  don't  care  a  cent  whether  the 
world  progresses  or  not. 

"  Well,  sir,  we  shot  up  about  a  thousand  feet  more, 
and  then  Jones  dropped  the  lunch-basket  overboard 
by  accident,  and  we  went  up  nearly  four  miles. 


BALLOONING. 


369 


\  \ 


//     VTr     '    /vv^y  . 

4  5l«^ 


Conly  got  blue  in  the  face,  Jones  fainted,  and  I 
came  near  going  under  myself.  A  minute  more 
we'd  all've  been  dead  men ;  but  I  gave  the  valve  a 
jerk,  and  we  came  down  like  a  rocket-stick.  When 
the  boys  came  to,  Jones  said  he  wanted  to  get  out; 
and  as  we  were  only  a  little  distance  from  the  ground, 
I  threw  out  the  grapnel. 

"  That  minute  a  breeze  struck  her,  and  she  went 
along  at  about  ninety  miles  an  hour  over  some  man's 

24 


370  ELBOW-ROOM. 

garden,  and  the  grapnel  caught  his  grape-arbor, 
snatched  it  up,  and  pretty  soon  got  it  tangled  with 
the  weathercock  on  the  Presbyterian  church-steeple. 
I  cut  the  rope  and  left  it  there,  and  I  understand 
that  the  deacons  sued  the  owner  because  he  wouldn't 
take  it  down.  Raised  an  awful  fuss  and  sent  the 
sheriff  after  me.  Trying  to  make  scientific  inves 
tigation  seem  like  a  crime,  and  I  working  all  the 
time  like  a  horse  to  unfold  the  phenomena  of  nature! 
If  they  had  loved  knowledge,  they  wouldn't  Ve  cared 
if  I'd  Ve  ripped  off  their  old  steeple  and  dropped  it 
down  like  an  extinguisher  on  top  of  some  factory 
chimney. 

"  So,  when  we  left  the  grape-arbor,  we  went  up 
again,  and  Jones  got  sicker  and  said  he  must  get  out. 
So  I  rigged  up  another  grapnel  and  threw  it  over. 
We  were  just  passing  a  farm  near  the  river;  and  as 
the  wind  was  high,  the  grapnel  tore  through  two 
fences  and  pulled  the  roof  off  of  a  smoke-house, 
and  then,  as  nothing  would  hold  her,  we  swooped 
into  the  woods,  when  we  ran  against  a  tree.  The 
branches  skinned  Conly's  face  and  nearly  put  out 
my  right  eye,  and  knocked  four  teeth  out  of  Jones' 
mouth.  It  was  the  most  exciting  and  interesting 
voyage  I  ever  made  in  my  life;  and  I  was  just  be 
ginning  to  get  some  satisfaction  from  it — just  getting 
warmed  up  and  preparing  to  take  some  meteoro 
logical  observations — when  Jones  became  so  very 
anxious  to  quit  that  I  didn't  like  to  refuse,  although 
it  went  fearfully  against  the  grain  for  the  reason  that 


BALLOONING.  3/1 

I  hated  to  give  up  and  abandon  my  scientific  in 
vestigations. 

"  So  I  threw  out  my  coat  and  boots,  and  made  the 
other  fellows  do  the  same,  and  we  rose  above  the 
trees  and  sailed  along  splendidly  until  we  struck  the 
river.  Then  she  suddenly  dodged  down,  and  the 
edge  of  the  car  caught  in  the  water ;  so  the  wind 
took  her,  and  we  went  scudding  along  like  lightning, 
nearly  drowned.  Conly  was  washed  overboard,  and 
that  lightened  her,  so  she  went  up  again.  I  was  for 
staying  up,  but  Jones  said  he'd  die  if  he  didn't  get 
out  soon ;  and  besides,  he  thought  we  ought  to  look 
after  Conly.  But  I  said  Conly  was  probably  drowned, 
anyhow,  so  it  was  hardly  worth  while  to  sacrifice 
our  experiments  on  that  account ;  and  I  told  Jones 
that  a  man  of  his  intelligence  ought  to  be  willing  to 
endure  something  for  the  sake  of  scientific  truth. 
And  Jones  said,  '  Hang  scientific  truth  ! ' — actually 
made  that  remark ;  and  he  said  that  if  I  didn't  let 
him  out  he'd  jump  out.  He  was  sick,  you  know. 
The  man  was  not  himself,  or  he  would  never  have 
talked  in  that  way  about  a  voyage  that  was  so  full 
of  interest  and  so  likely  to  reveal  important  secrets 
of  nature. 

"  But  to  oblige  him  I  at  last  got  her  down  on  the 
other  side  of  the  river,  and  a  farmer  ran  out  and 
seized  the  rope.  While  we  were  talking  to  him  I 
was  just  telling  him  that,  as  the  gas  was  running  out 
of  the  neck  of  the  balloon,  maybe  he'd  better  put 
out  his  cigar,  when  all  of  a  sudden  there  was  a  ter- 


3/2  ELBOW-ROOM. 

rific  bang.  The  gas  exploded  and  wrapped  us  in  a 
sheet  of  flame,  and  the  next  minute  some  of  the 
neighbors  picked  up  me  and  Jones.  Jones  was 
roasted  nearly  to  a  crisp.  Exciting,  wasn't  it  ? 

"And  they  took  him  over  to  the  farmhouse, 
where  we  found  that  they  had  fished  out  Conly  and 
were  bringing  him  to.  When  he  revived,  they  sent 
the  invalid  corps  back  to  town  in  a  wagon,  Jones 
groaning  all  the  way  and  I  arguing  with  him  to  show 
that  science  requires  her  votaries  to  give  up  a  little 
of  their  personal  comfort  for  the  benefit  it  does  the 
human  race,  and  Conly  saying  he  wished  he  was 
well  enough  to  go  out  and  bang  the  inventor  of  bal 
loons  with  a  gun. 

"  As  soon  as  we  got  back  to  Easton  a  constable 
arrested  me  for  chucking  that  ignorant  opponent  of 
scientific  inquiry  up  against  the  fence  and  wrecking 
him.  When  I  was  let  off  on  bail,  I  began  to  build  a 
new  balloon.  She's  nearly  done  now,  and  I'm  going 
to  make  an  ascension  early  next  month  in  search  of 
the  ozone  belt.  Won't  you  go  up  with  me  ?  The 
day  is  going  to  come  when  everybody  will  travel 
that  way.  It's  the  most  exhilarating  motion  in  the 
world.  Come  on  up  and  help  me  make  scientific 
observations  on  the  ozone  belt." 

But  the  invitation  was  declined.  The  Patriot,  how 
ever,  will  have  a  good  obituary  notice  of  the  professor 
all  ready,  in  type. 


CHAPTER    XXXI. 

VARIOUS  THINGS. 

IT  is  a  notorious  fact  that  itinerant  circus 
companies  pay  very  poorly,  and  that  the 
man  who  does  not  get  his  money  from 
them  in  advance  is  not  very  likely  to  get 
it  at  all.  Major  Slott  of  The  Patriot  has  suffered  a 
good  deal  from  these  concerns;  and  when  "The  Great 
European  Circus  and  Metropolitan  Caravan"  tried  to 
slip  off  the  other  day  without  settling  its  advertising 
bill,  he  called  upon  the  sheriff  and  got  him  to  attach 
the  Bengal  tiger  for  the  debt.  The  tiger  was  brought 
in  its  cage  and  placed  in  the  composing-room,  where 
it  consumed  fifteen  dollars'  worth  of  meat  in  two 
days — the  major's  bill  was  only  twelve  dollars — and 
scratched  one  trouser  leg  off  of  the  reporter,  who  was 
standing  in  front  of  the  cage  stirring  up  the  animal  with 
a  broom.  On  the  third  day  the  bottom  fell  out  of  the 
cage;  and  as  the  tiger  seemed  to  want  to  roam  around 
and  inquire  into  things,  the  whole  force  of  compos 
itors  all  at  once  felt  as  if  they  ought  to  go  suddenly 
down  stairs  and  give  the  animal  a  chance.  With 
that  mysterious  instinct  which  distinguishes  dumb 
animals,  and  which  goes  far  to  prove  that  they  have 

373 


374 


ELBOW-ROOM. 


souls,  the  tiger  went  at  once  for  the  door  of  the 
major's  sanctum,  and  it  broke  in  just  as  Slott  was 
in  the  middle  of  a  tearing  editorial  upon  "  Our  Tend 
encies  toward  Caesarism."  The  major,  however,  did 
not  hesitate  to  knock  off.  He  stopped  at  once,  and 
emerged  with  a  fine,  airy  grace  through  the  window, 
bringing  the  sash  with  him;  and  then  he  climbed  up 
the  water-spout  to  the  roof,  where  he  sat  until  a  hook- 
and-ladder  company  came  and  took  him  off.  The 
Patriot  did  not  issue  for  a  week;  for  although  the 
major  bombarded  the  tiger  with  shot-guns  pointed 
through  the  windows,  and  although  the  fire-engine 


VARIOUS   THINGS.  3/5 

squirted  hot  water  at  him,  the  brute  got  along  very 
comfortably  until  Saturday  night,  when  he  tried  to 
swallow  a  composing-stick  and  choked  to  death. 
When  they  entered  the  room,  they  found  that  the 
animal  had  upset  all  the  type  and  had  soaked  him 
self  in  ink  and  then  rolled  over  nearly  every  square 
inch  of  the  floor,  while  the  major's  leader  on  "  Cae- 
sarism  "  was  saturated  with  water  and  perforated  with 
shot-holes.  After  this  circus  advertisements  in  The 
Patriot  will  be  paid  for  in  advance. 

In  one  of  the  issues  of  his  paper,  just  after  the 
trouble  with  the  tiger,  the  major  offered  some  re 
flections  upon  the  general  subject  of  "  Tigers,"  in 
which  he  gave  evidence  that  he  had  recovered  his 
good-humor  to  some  extent.  He  said, 

"  We  have  read  with 
very  deep  interest  a  de 
scription  of  how  Van 
Amburgh  used  to  obtain 
control  over  tigers  and 
other  wild  beasts.  All  he 
did  was  to  mesmerize  them 
two  or  three  times,  and  they  soon  recognized  his 
power  and  obeyed  him.  The  thing  seems  simple 
and  easy  enough,  now  that  we  understand  it,  and  we 
have  a  mysterious  impression  that  we  could  walk 
out  into  a  jungle  and  subdue  the  first  tiger  we  met 
by  making  a  few  passes  at  him  with  our  hands.  But 
we  are  not  anxious  to  do  this — for  one  reason,  be 
cause  the  Indian  jungles  are  so  far  away,  and  for 


3  76  ELB  OW-RO  OM. 

another,  because  we  do  not  want  to  hurt  an  innocent 
tiger.  If  we  have  to  meddle  with  such  animals,  we 
always  prefer  to  operate  with  those  that  are  stuffed. 
Show  us  a  tiger  with  sawdust  bowels,  and  we  will 
stand  in  front  of  him  and  make  mesmeric  motions 
for  a  week  without  the  quiver  of  a  nerve.  Not  that 
we  are  timid  when  the  tiger  is  alive,  but  simply  be 
cause  a  fur-store  is  more  convenient  than  a  jungle, 
and  there  is  less  danger  of  wetting  our  feet.  If  we 
happened  to  be  in  India  and  we  wanted  a  tiger,  we 
should  unhesitatingly  go  out  and  stand  boldly  in 
front  of  the  very  first  one  we  saw — tied  to  a  tree — 
and  we  should  bring  him  home  instantly  if  we  could 
find  a  man  willing  to  lead  him  with  a  string.  But 
this  kind  of  courage  is  born  in  some  men.  It  can 
not  be  acquired ;  and  timid  persons  who  intend  to 
practice  Van  Amburgh's  method  will  find  it  more 
judicious  to  begin  the  mesmerizing  operation  by 
soothing  the  animal  with  a  howitzer." 

The  lightning-rod  man  haunts  our  county  as  he 
does  the  rest  of  the  civilized  portion  of  the  country ; 
and  although  occasionally  he  secures  a  victim,  some 
times  it  happens  that  he  gets  worsted  in  his  attempts 
to  beguile  his  fellow-men.  Such  was  his  fate  upon  a 
recent  occasion  in  our  village. 

The  other  day  a  lightning-rod  man  drove  up  in 
front  of  a  handsome  edifice  standing  in  the  midst  of 
trees  and  shrubs  in  Millburg,  and  spoke  to  Mr. 
Potts,  who  was  sitting  on  the  steps  in  front.  He 


VARIOUS   THINGS.  3/7 

accosted  Potts  as  the  owner  of  the  residence,  and 
said, 

"  I  see  you  have  no  lightning-rods  on  this  house." 

"  No,"  said  Potts. 

"Are  you  going  to  put  any  on  ?" 

"  Well,  I  hadn't  thought  of  it,"  replied  Potts. 

"  You  ought  to.  A  tall  building  like  this  is  very 
much  exposed.  I'd  like  to  run  you  up  one  of  my 
rods  ;  twisted  steel,  glass  fenders,  nickel-plated  tips — 
everything  complete.  May  I  put  one  up  to  show 
you  ?  I'll  do  the  job  cheap." 

"  Certainly  you  may,  if  you  want  to.  I  haven't 
the  slightest  objection,"  said  Potts. 

During  the  next  half  hour  the  man  had  his  lad 
ders  up  and  his  assistants  at  work,  and  at  the'end  of 
that  time  the  job  was  done.  He  called  Potts  out 
into  the  yard  to  admire  it.  He  said  to  Potts, 

"  Now,  that  is  all  well  enough ;  but  if  it  was  my 
house,  I'd  have  another  rod  put  on  the  other  side. 
There's  nothing  like  being  protected  thoroughly." 

"  That's  true,"  said  Potts  ;  "  it  would  be  better." 

"  I'll  put  up  another,  shall  I  ?"  asked  the  man. 

"  Why,  of  course,  if  you  think  it's  'best,"  said 
Potts. 

Accordingly,  the  man  went  to  work  again,  and 
soon  had  the  rod  in  its  place. 

"  That's  a  first-rate  job,"  he  said  to  Potts  as  they 
both  stood  eyeing  it.  "  I  like  such  a  man  as  you 
are.  Big-hearted,  liberal,  not  afraid  to  put  a  dollar 
down  for  a  good  thing.  There's  some  pleasure  in 


ELBOW-ROOM. 

dealin'  with  you.  I  like  you  so  much  that  I'd  put  a 
couple  more  rods  on  that  house,  one  on  the  north 
end  and  one  on  the  south,  for  almost  nothin'." 

"  It  would  make  things  safer,  I  suppose,"  said 
Potts. 

"  Certainly  it  would.  I'd  better  do  it,  hadn't  I, 
hey?" 

"  Just  as  you  think  proper,"  said  Potts. 

So  the  man  ran  up  two  more  rods,  and  then  he 
came  down  and  said  to  Potts,  "  There !  that's  done. 
Now  let's  settle  up." 

"  Do  what  ?" 

"  Why,  the  job's  finished,  and  now  I'll  take  my 
money." 

"  You  don't  expect  me  to  pay  you,  I  hope  ?" 

"  Of  course  I  do.  Didn't  you  tell  me  to  put  those 
rods  on  your  house  ?" 

"  My  house  !"  shouted  Potts.  "  Thunder  and  light 
ning!  I  never  ordered  you  to  put  those  rods  up. 
It  would  have  been  ridiculous.  Why,  man,  this  is 
the  court-house,  and  I'm  here  waiting  for  the  court 
to  assemble.  I'm  on  the  jury.  You  seemed  to  be 
anxious  to  rush  out  your  rods ;  and  as  it  was  none 
of  my  business,  I  let  you  go  on.  Pay  for  it !  Come, 
now,  that's  pretty  good." 

The  people  who  were  present  say  that  the  man 
ner  in  which  that  lightning-rod  man  tore  around  and 
swore  was  fearful.  But  when  he  got  his  rods  off  of 
the  court-house,  he  left  permanently.  He  don't  fancy 
the  place. 


VARIOUS   THINGS.  379 

Keyser  had  lightning-rods  placed  upon  his  barn 
three  or  four  years  ago ;  but  during  last  summer  the 
building  was  struck  by  lightning  and  burned.  When 
he  got  the  new  barn  done,  a  man  came  around  with 
a  red  wagon  and  wanted  to  sell  him  a  set  of  Bolt  & 
Burnam's  patent  lightning-rods. 

"  I  believe  not,"  said  Keyser ;  "  I  had  rods  on  the 
barn  at  the  time  of  the — " 

"  I  know,"  exclaimed  the  agent — "  I  know  you 
had;  and  very  likely  that's  the  reason  you  were 
struck.  Nothin's  more  likely  to  attract  lightnin' 
than  worthless  rods." 

"  How  do  you  know  they  were  worthless  ?" 

"  Why,  I  was  drivin'  by  yer  in  the  spring,  and  I 
seen  them  rods,  and  I  says  to  myself,  '  That  barn'll  be 
struck  some  time,  but  there's  no  use  in  tryin*  to  con 
vince  Mr.  Keyser;'  so  I  didn't  call.  I  knowed  it, 
because  they  had  iron  tips.  A  rod  with  iron  tips  is 
no  better'n  a  clothes-prop  to  ward  off  lightnin'." 

"The  man  who  sold  them  to  me  said  they  had 
platinum  tips,"  remarked  Keyser. 

"Ah!  this  is  a  wicked  world,  Mr.  Keyser.  You 
can't  be  too  cautious.  Some  of  these  yer  agents  lie 
like  a  gas-meter.  It's  awful,  sir.  They  are  wholly 
untrustworthy.  Them  rods  was  the  most  ridicklus 
sham  I  ever  see — a  regular  gouge.  They  wa'n't 
worth  the  labor  it  took  to  put  'em  up.  They  wa'n't, 
now.  That's  the  honest  truth." 

"  What  kind  do  you  offer  ?" 

"  Well,  sir,  I've  got  the  only  genuine  lightnin'-rod 


380  ELBOW-ROOM. 

that's  made.  It's  constructed  on  scientific  principles. 
Professor  Henry  says  it's  sure  to  run  off  the  electric 
fluid  every  time — twisted  charcoal  iron,  glass  insu 
lators,  eight  points  on  each  rod,  warranted  solid  pla 
tinum.  We  give  a  written  guarantee  with  each  rod. 
Never  had  a  house  struck  since  we  began  to  offer 
this  rod  to  the  public.  Positive  fact.  The  lightnin'll 
play  all  around  a  house  with  one  of  'em  and  never 
touch  it.  A  thunder-storm  that'd  tear  the  bowels 
out  of  the  American  continent  would  leave  your 
house  as  safe  as  a  polar  bear  in  the  middle  of  an 
iceberg.  Shall  I  run  you  one  up  ?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Keyser,  musingly. 

"  I'll  put  you  up  one  cheap,  and  then  you'll  have 
somethin'  reliable — somethin'  there's  no  discount 
on." 

"  You  say  the  old  rod  was  a  fraud  ?" 

"  The  deadliest  fraud  you  ever  heard  of.  It  hadn't 
an  ounce  of  platinum  within  a  mile  of  it.  The  man 
that  sold  it  ought  to  be  prosecuted,  and  the  fellow  that 
put  it  up  without  insulators  should  be  shot.  It's  too 
bad  the  farmers  should  be  gouged  in  this  sort  of 
way." 

"  And  Bolt  &  Burnam's  rod  is  not  a  fraud  ?" 

"A  fraud?  Why,  really,  my  dear  sir,  just  cast 
your  eye  over  Professor  Henry's  letter  and  these  cer 
tificates,  and  remember  that  we  give  a  written  guar 
antee — a  positive  protection,  of  course." 

"  Just  cast  your  eye  over  that,"  said  Keyser,  hand 
ing  him  a  piece  of  paper. 


VARIOUS   THINGS.  381 

"Well,  upon  my  word!  This  is  indeed  some 
what — that  is  to  say  it  is,  as  it  were — it  looks — it 
looks  a  little  like  one  of  our  own  certificates." 

"  Just  so,"  said  Keyser.  "  That  old  rod  was  one 
of  Bolt  &  Burnam's.  You  sold  it  to  my  son-in-law; 
you  gave  this  certificate;  you  swore  the  points  were 
platinum,  and  your  man  put  it  up." 

"  Then  I  suppose  we  can't  trade  ?" 

"  Well,  I  should  think  not,"  said  Keyser.  Where 
upon  the  man  mounted  the  red  wagon  and  moved  on. 

When  Benjamin  P.  Gunn,  the  life  insurance  agent, 
called  upon  Mr.  Butterwick,  the  following  conversa 
tion  ensued : 

Gunn.  "  Mr.  Butterwick,  you  have  no  insurance 
on  your  life,  I  believe  ?  I  dropped  in  to  see  if  I 
can't  get  you  to  go  into  our  company.  We  offer 
unparalleled  inducements,  and — " 

Butterwick.  "  I  don't  want  to  insure." 

Gunn.  "  The  cost  is  just  nothing  worth  speaking 
of;  a  mere  trifle.  And  then  we  pay  enormous  divi 
dends,  so  that  you  have'  so  much  security  at  such  a 
little  outlay  that  you  can  be  perfectly  comfortable 
and  happy." 

Butterwick.  "  But  I  don't  want  to  be  comfortable 
and  happy.  I'm  trying  to  be  miserable." 

Gunn.  "  Now,  look  at  this  thing  in  a  practical 
light.  You've  got  to  die  some  time  or  other.  That 
is  a  dreadful  certainty  to  which  we  must  all  look  for 
ward.  It  is  fearful  enough  in  any  event,  but  how 


382  ELBOW-ROOM. 

much  more  so  when  a  man  knows  that  he  leaves 
nothing  behind  him  !  We  all  shrink  from  death,  we 
all  hate  to  think  of  it;  the  contemplation  of  it  fills 
us  with  awful  dread ;  but  reflect,  what  must  be  the 
feelings  of  the  man  who  enters  the  dark  valley  with 
the  assurance  that  in  a  pecuniary  sense  his  life  has 
been  an  utter  failure  ?  Think  how — " 

Butterwick.  "  Don't  scare  me  a  bit.  I  want  to  die ; 
been  wanting  to  die  for  years.  Rather  die  than  live 
any  time." 

Gunn.  "  I  say,  think  how  wretched  will  be  the 
condition  of  those  dear  ones  whom  you  leave  behind 
you  !  Will  not  the  tears  of  your  heartbroken  widow 
be  made  more  bitter  by  the  poverty  in  which  she  is 
suddenly  plunged,  and  by  the  reflection  that  she  is 
left  to  the  charity  of  a  cold  and  heartless  world. 
Will  not—" 

Butterwick.  *'  I  wouldn't  leave  her  a  cent  if  I  had 
millions.  It'll  do  the  old  woman  good  to  skirmish 
around  for  her  living.  Then  she'll  appreciate  me." 

Gunn.  "  Your  poor  little  children,  too.  Father 
less,  orphaned,  they  will  have  no  one  to  fill  their 
famished  mouths  with  bread,  no  one  to  protect  them 
from  harm.  You  die  uninsured,  and  they  enter  a  life  of 
suffering  from  the  keen  pangs  of  poverty.  You  in 
sure  in  our  company,  and  they  begin  life  with  enough 
to  feed  and  clothe  them,  and  to  raise  them  above  the 
reach  of  want." 

Butterwick.  "  I  don't  want  to  raise  them  above 
the  reach  of  want.  I  want  them  to  want.  Best 


VARIOUS    THINGS.  383 

thing  they  can  do  is  to  tucker  down  to  work  as  I 
did." 

Gunn.  "  Oh,  Mr.  Butterwick,  try  to  take  a  higher 
view  of  the  matter.  When  you  are  an  angel  and 
you  come  back  to  revisit  the  scenes  of  earth,  will  it 
not  fill  you  with  sadness  to  see  your  dear  ones  ex 
posed  to  the  storm  and  the  blast,  to  hunger  and 
cold?" 

Butterwick.  "  I'm  not  going  to  be  an  angel ;  and  if 
I  was,  I  wouldn't  come  back." 

Gunn.  "  You  are  a  poor  man  now.  How  do  you 
know  that  your  family  will  have  enough  when  you 
are  gone  to  pay  your  funeral  expenses,  to  bury  you 
decently  ?" 

Butterwick.  "  I  don't  want  to  be  buried." 

Gunn.  "  Perhaps  Mrs.  Butterwick  will  be  so 
indignant  at  your  neglect  that  she  will  not  mourn 
for  you,  that  she  will  not  shed  a  tear  over  your 
bier." 

Butterwick.  "  I  don't  want  a  bier,  and  I'd  rather 
she  wouldn't  cry  any." 

Gunn.  "  Well,  then,  s'posin'  you  go  in  on  the  en 
dowment  plan  and  take  a  policy  for  five  thousand 
dollars,  to  be  paid  you  when  you  reach  the  age  of 
fifty?" 

Butterwick.  "  I  don't  want  five  thousand  dollars 
when  I'm  fifty.  I  wouldn't  take  it  if  you  were  to 
fling  it  at  me  and  pay  me  to  take  it." 

Gunn.  tl'm  afraid,  then,  I'll  have  to  say  good- 
morning." 


3  84  ELB  O  W-R  O  OM. 

Butterwick.  "  I  don't  want  you  to  say  good-morn 
ing;  you  can  go  without  saying  it." 

Gunn.  "  I'll  quit." 

Butterwick.  "  Aha  !  now  you've  hit  it !  I  do  want 
you  to  quit,  and  as  suddenly  as  you  can." 

Then  Mr.  Gunn  left.  He  thinks  he  will  hardly 
insure  Butterwick. 


4  62 


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Elbow-room. 


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